


a year of sundays

by brokendevil



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, F/F, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 97,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendevil/pseuds/brokendevil
Summary: Two girls. One day. A lifetime of memories.For a year Clarke and Lexa meet in secret and learn important lessons of life, of peace, and of love.





	1. September - December

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is long. And I wrote it on my evening off from work and it is, unfortunately, unedited so all mistakes are mine. I hope you like it.
> 
> There are brief mentions of homophobia and while I've tried to make it as sensitive as I can I would suggest that, if you don't like such language, to perhaps read one of my other fluffier pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some homophobic language throughout all four chapters of this story. I wanted to illustrate that struggle for these two girls too. I can, however, promise that it gets better over the span of the chapters and that any angst is there to serve a purpose. 
> 
> I have tried to be as sensitive with it as I can be but I do like to ensure things are as realistic as possible. If you do have any questions then please come to me at my Tumblr, brokendevilwrites.

There are, depending if there is a leap year or not, fifty-three Sundays in a single year.  Which if you were to live to an average age of eighty-five then you'd have lived through four thousand, five hundred and five single Sundays. And yet, you think as your eyes take in the glistening water and you listen to the soft hush of the trees, it took you less than fifty-three to fall in love with the right girl at the wrong time. 

 

**SEPTEMBER**

**1**

You stand outside of the church and huddle beneath your little jacket. Your stubborn side refuses to look at your father as he chuckles deeply to himself at your attire. Before you'd left the house with your parents he had asked you to put on a longer coat, requested in fact that you dress a little more appropriately, but the hem of your skirt was at finger length when you put your arms to your sides and there was no way you were being caught outside in some monstrosity of a winter coat when you had your reliable blue leather jacket to keep you warm. Granted, of course, you hadn't quite expected Polis to get as cold as it has so quickly--even Raven had mentioned how unseasonably chilled the air was--but you weren't willing to hear your dad's teasing "I told you so," just yet.  

Behind you your parents are busy talking to Pastor Jaha and, for a family who have only just moved into the small town of Polis a few months ago, everyone knows who you are. Your mother is the Chief of Surgery at Arkadia General, a prestigious title in and of itself, and your father owns his own car repair shop; specializing in rebuilding old cars. That was how you met Raven.She had been busy leaning over your father to see inside some car--(a _1955 Hudson Hornet_ your father scoffed when you hadn't looked as enthused as them)--and you had been sat on his workbench, watching in amusement as this spunky teenager impressed your dad so easily. Your father had liked her, you had liked her. She was nice.

You're watching as your parents continue their act of 'Wholesome America' by talking to every single influential person they can and you can't help but roll your eyes as you hear your mother call you over. Her voice is sickly sweet as she asks you, quite fiercely if you know her well enough, to pay attention. "Clarke, darling, come and meet Pastor Jaha's son. He's thinking of Polis State too so you can compare majors." 

Wells looks just as uncomfortable at being introduced to you too but you give him the dutiful smile that the daughter of successful parents would give. Your father has moved off to talk to someone else and you wonder if you could warm your hands on the pride that your mom practically radiates next to you. Wells is handsome and his skin has you mesmerized for a short moment, a moment long enough for him to realise you aren't going to make your introduction first, and you flush when he holds his hand out towards you with a quiet murmur of, "It's lovely to finally meet the girl my father speaks so highly of." 

"I hope I live up to the hype that I've clearly been given," you return hesitantly, brow furrowed as you try and recall even a singular moment that the older man could have brought you up in conversation. You look to your mother and you see that look in her eye, that set determination that makes you shudder, and you know the answer before the question really fully forms in your mind. Out of the corner of your eye you can see your fathers protective glance but he makes no move to walk over, trusting you to hold your own. "You're going to Polis State?" 

Wells genuinely smiles at that and gives you a nervous little shrug that makes your tummy swoop pleasantly. He's obviously beautiful and his eyes are the kind and gentle sort that you itch to draw and perfect in your classes. But he's clearly aware that this is a set up too and you kind of want to save him. "I don't know yet. There are a few schools that I'm looking at but I know my father would like me to stay close to home and Polis is just as good a school for teaching as any other." You can see it in the way that his eyes dip, how he shrugs his shoulders in a resigned kind of way, that he doesn't completely believe his own words and you narrow your eyes in thought.

"I've heard great things about Michigan," you tease softly and the adults around you suddenly quiet and turn their attention onto you. You watch in amusement as Wells lights up in delight at your words and, right then, you know that he's looked into schools. You know his heart is set somewhere out of state and you've only known the boy a few minutes. "In fact, thinking about it, I'm not entirely sure Polis is even in the same leagues as some of the other teachings schools. But I wouldn't know."

Your words are as diplomatic as you've ever been taught but they have that 'Clarke Spark' that you hear your father speak so highly of. Pastor Jaha makes some type of noise, a clearing of his throat you think, as he begins to explain that the History department at Polis is very well recognized. In the moment of distraction you send Wells a kind smile and you watch a shy one emerge on his own face at your support. It's sad but you wonder if he's ever had someone support him before. Instead of wondering too much you stick to your duties as a daughter; comparing love for books and chess and movies with Wells as your mother continues to charm and impress everyone notable that she can in the town. But, for just one second, your eyes wander away from Wells and across the parking lot to a family who seem to be bickering happily with smiles on their faces.

At the front there's a giant of a man who has a young boy on his shoulders, his age no more than three from what you can determine, and two young girls follow behind. You can't see either of their faces but you can hear the squeal of laughter from the tiny boy as the other two push each other playfully, the brunette far more rigid than the taller blonde, and you find yourself smiling at the dismissive hand gesture that the darker girl gives. Wells seems to notice your distraction and he turns his head too look too, biting his lip slightly at where your attention seems to be before he gives a small hum.

"The Woods," he explains quietly, as though he doesn't want anyone to hear, and suddenly he has your attention. "Do you know them?"

The school year has only just started for you in the small town of Polis and you, in your first week, have only met two people. Raven, who is already a senior, and her boyfriend Finn, who is a Junior too and in a few of your classes. Finn was the first to really talk to you in English and you were taken in my his smile and his handsome eyes but you're not an asshole and Raven is your friend so you left it at initial attraction and moved on. You know that Wells goes to Arkadia too, you've seen him in several of your classes though you've never spoken to him, and you're glad that you have another friendly face in the daunting hallways and buildings that make up the second high school in Polis. "No. I don't think I've ever seen them before."

He gives another soft murmur and you're beginning to realize he does it when he doesn't want to say something rude or offensive outloud. Your dad often said you could read people quickly, that you were empathic like that, and it comes in handy more than you've thought. You wait expectantly--(though your patience is wearing a little thin if you're honest)--and he sighs as he realises you want him to continue. "I wouldn't call them 'bad' if that's what you're waiting for me to say but they're definitely not a family you want to associate yourself with. Indra, the other, she's our mayor."

"Seems like the kind of people my mom would love to know," you chuckle but you quickly cut yourself off when Wells shakes his head at you. "What?"

"Not everyone thinks associating with them is a positive thing. Gustus, the father, has the only diner in a ten mile radius for a reason. They own most of the town and refuse to let others build on it," he explains and your eyebrows shoot up at his tone, how he seems to have lowered it even further, how he's acting like it's a curse to even utter their names. They were just a family. Right? "I just wouldn't get involved with them. They aren't know for being the most welcoming of families and trying to get their attention is pointless. Indra is good at what she does because she can make hard decisions without emotion but that's not someone you want at your dinner party, is it?" 

A car drives past, dark and expensive, and you look towards it in wonder. Two girls sit in the back and you attempt a smile as the darker one looks out of the window, her face stoic as she meets your eyes through the lowered window, and you feel a harsh pounding in your chest and your stomach at her even stare. Your fingers tingle even after the car quietly leaves the church grounds and you know, you just know, that you have to learn more about that girl. 

**2.**

The town itself isn't much and you're not sure how you feel about it. Back in Washington there was always something for you to do with your friends--arcades, parks, pools, coffee shops--but Polis seems to close its doors early and you find yourself walking around aimlessly once church is over. You're glad for the leggings you chose that morning as you walk, the soft material of your skirt moving over your lower thighs, and you wonder how long you can last before you give in and finally let your father buy you a winter jacket that he deems suitable. You think if you let him choose you a winter coat you'll end up wearing something from the era of Mary Poppins so you're going to put that off as long as possible. 

Looking ahead you see a sign and curiosity takes it's hold because you haven't seen this side of town yet. Wells will be back from his Latin studies and Raven and Finn will finally emerge from one of their bedrooms, satisfied and smiling in a way that makes you envious in ways you're not completely sure about yet. Finn has a pretty smile and that feeling of envy only grows each time he turns from directing it at you to directing it at Raven. You're not willing to figure that out  _just_ yet and you march forward, determined to enjoy your alone time before you're thrown back into being sociable and polite and perfect. 

**'Polis Lake** **Nature Trail.'**

It's not as if you're adverse to exercise, in fact you kind of like it, but it's not the first in your list of choice things to do. But it is barely noon and with Wells gone until at least two and your other friends only appearing when it seems like they need hydration you begin to walk. Music makes it easier and you let your playlist accompany you as you look around to familiarize yourself to the new area and take in as much as you can. There are a few benches purposefully dotted around in areas that you're sure would make a good view and you make note to bring your neglected art supplies the next time you come out here; your little hobby has taken a very much needed backseat as you settle into a new town with new people and new families to impress, but now you itch to start again and you smile at the thought.

Perhaps your dad would come along too. An artist he is not but you can see him reading one of his books, or tinkering with something you have no idea even exists inside an object, as you work.

The path dips down gently towards a lazy river and you follow it down as you ignore the burn in your calves that reminds you of how little exercise you do and you head towards the clear water. After Wells' description of the Woods family your curiosity had taken hold and you had looked them up. Considering the picture he painted for you, you were surprised to find that education and the preservation of both land and nature were at the top of the families agenda. She supported small businesses, development, charities and you found you liked her ethics more than you thought you were going to going off of Wells' description.

(Others were split on how they felt about them. At school you had asked and Octavia, a friend of Ravens with an attitude that kind of scared you, was in their favor but Raven wasn't sure. Your friend thought that Indra's stubborn stance on remaining a small independent town would eventually cripple them but Octavia had added that the town was doing more than okay economically. You smile at the memory of Finn breaking up the debate with a charming anecdote about Lincoln Woods, Indra's only biological child, and you were too busy admiring how Octavia bit into her firm lower at the mention of the boy.)

You jump when you catch a movement out of your peripheral vision and take your ear buds out, turning to see who--or what--is moving to your left. Between the trees a teenager approaches and you stop for a moment to notice the tight sports bra and the short running shorts the girl is wearing before you snap out of it. She nods at you when you send her a polite smile as she stands a few yards down the river to catch her breath and you find, ridiculously, that you can't look away. Your earbuds drop down to your chest, forgotten, and you're surprised to find you enjoy the sounds of the world over the pumping bass you'd been listening to; the bubbling of the water in front of you, the soft flutter of the trees as the animals dip and run and jump between them, the soft crack of rocks as water laps over them just a few feet in front of you.

It's relaxing, you think.

Calming. 

It's something you haven't felt before. 

"You're new around here," you hear and you turn a little more to acknowledge the girl to your left as she finally stands straight and lets her own earphones fall from her ears.

A simple nod would have sufficed but you like the way that her voice sounds over the trickle of water next to you and you smooth your skirt out as you edge over the smooth rocks to take a few steps towards her. "Yeah, we moved here a few weeks ago. How did you know?"

"I know every person in my town," she replies and you don't miss the way she says it's _her town_ ; like she owns it. The confident tone she uses sets off a little spark in your tummy and you bite back an amused grin because this girl can't be much older than your sixteen years and yet she stands so tall and confident that you swoon just a little. _Anyone_ would swoon, you correct. "You're not somebody that I know. I would recognise you."

"In all the towns, in all the world," you muse with a smile and you watch her eyebrow tick, a tongue pressing against the back of her white teeth as the edges of her full lips pull upwards just slightly. Had you not been staring quite so intently you're sure you'd have missed those micro-expressions but you thank the stars you managed to catch them, despite not knowing her name just yet.

You're not even sure why you even said that but you can't regret it in the slightest when te girl looks away before finishing your words with an amused, "She had to walk into mine."

"I'd much rather you called me by my name," you tease as you take the last few steps close and hold your hand out in a way of greeting. She looks at it for a single second before she reaches out and shakes it once; firm and exactly the way your mother had taught you too. "Clarke."

"Lexa."

"It's nice to meet you Lexa."

\--

You walk home and a thought strikes you so hard that you gasp out into the empty street.

Lexa is pretty to you in the same way Finn and Wells are.

**3.**

Sundays are sacrosanct, this according to your mother, so when you wake and tell her that you don't feel well she hushes you quickly before throwing another appropriate outfit onto your desk. Your body feels hot and shaky even as you dress but you know better than to go up against your mother, especially when she's too busy chattering about Pastor Jaha and his handsome son Wells, and you shoot your father a look to save you. He pouts genuinely and walks forward, placing a large callused hand against your warm forehead and murmurs soft words against your brow before placing a loving kiss there. 

"We'll be home by eleven," he promises you, his voice unable to go lower than a deep rumble and you lean into his broad chest sadly. "I'll talk to your mother about school tomorrow." 

You're not completely devout, there are some teachings in the Bible that bother you, but you do like the community spirit of being a part of something larger and it comforts you in it's more basic teachings. Be good, love, be kind. Your parents were brought up in the Church though, they even met at a picnic for young Christians, and you don't dislike church enough to not go. It's friendly and nice and there's always an old lady with extra mints who wants to share which is a pretty awesome bonus. It's not like you particularly _want_ to miss church but your stomach feels scary and you're pretty sure you're four breaths away from fainting but, as your mom bundles you into a car with a soft tut at your appearance-- _she's literally the most gifted medical professional in Polis,_ you scream internally--you tell yourself to last it out.

Just two hours.

\--

Your mother is once more caught up in a gaggle of women you couldn't care less about and you sit down in the shade to cool down some. Your palms grip onto the stone wall that you're perched on as you take in a few deep lungfuls of air as you count to ten slowly. You've stopped feeling as dizzy when your father nudged a bottle of water against your knee in concern but you most certainly don't feel healthy and you hate it. As a child you were considered a 'control freak' by your parents but you knew their teasing is pretty true; the slightest threat of something being out of your control, out of your hands, annoys you and it's the same with illness.

You can't fix it immediately and you hate that thought more than actually being ill. 

Looking up you notice that your parents are _still_ locked in conversations with separate groups and you roll your eyes as you resign yourself to the fact that you'll easily be here for another twenty minutes. Even if you thought you could make it without collapsing and needing your dad to come and get you your house is too far to walk and you simply accept it, nodding to yourself slowly and repeating that you'll be fine over and over again. 

"Are you okay?"

You had expected someone to come over when you separated from the groups outside of the church doors, because God forbid you want to be alone after church, but you figured it would be Wells or your father. You hadn't expected a girl in a pretty blouse and a nice skirt to take a seat next to you on the stone wall--with only a slight grimace you note in amusement--and you definitely hadn't been expecting the solid hand between your shoulders rubbing a soothing circle. Your thoughts from the previous week come back full force and you nudge her hand away softly. She pulls it back with an expression that screams her regret for even touching you at all and you force yourself to ignore it.

"I'm fine, thank you," and you don't mean for it to sound so clipped but her perfume is distracting you the same way Finn's smile does. What is wrong with you? She's a girl that you barely know but just her sitting next to you is making you feel dizzy again and you hate that you don't understand why, you hate that she's doing nothing to even evoke a reaction from you. "Just waiting for my mom to be done so I can finally go home and feel sorry for myself."

In all honesty you had hoped that your lighter tone on your following sentence would have helped how you'd spoken to her earlier but if anything if made her sit up straighter, eyes narrowed slightly. "If you're unwell then you shouldn't be sat on a cold wall. Tell them to take you home."

"Yeah, because being a mom comes before disappointing others," you mutter sardonically and then pause the rest of your words because that's not fair. Your mom might have not been the most maternal woman in the world but she cares for you fiercely and you know that, without a single doubt, but still. It stings to hear her laughing away when she knows how pale you'd been on the car ride that morning. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I'm a terrible patient." 

Lexa looks at you for a long time before nodding, like she understands, and she shifts to the side just a little to reach into her bag. It's leather and tough looking and far more expensive than a bag should be for the way Lexa drags it up the wall from the floor but you don't say anything. She pulls out a bottle of water and a granola bar, both which make you laugh for a reason you don't know, and she nudges them into your hand nervously. Her brows are furrowed like the offering is painful for her and you put her out of her misery by taking them from her with a soft smile and thanks in your eyes. 

She's a wonder this girl in front of you and you've only met her twice. Both encounters have barely added up to a few minutes together but you know that you like her.

You're about to say something when a sharp bark of her name grabs both of your attention and Lexa pulls herself off of the wall so quickly that you're not sure she was ever sat on there to begin with. A girl walks towards you, only slightly older than you both, with high cheekbones and a fire in her eyes that tells you not to question why she's interrupted your attempt at a conversation. She's mildly terrifying as she walks towards you both but you notice her attention isn't on you at all, almost like you don't exist, and you watch as she stops to cast her gaze over Lexa quickly. "Come, we have to leave." 

"Yeah, I'm coming now."

The girl tuts once and rolls her eyes so perfectly that you kind of want to applaud her.

Neither girl acknowledges you before they leave but, as the car drives past you once more in all its elegance, you see her send you a soft smile. 

\--

You place the granola bar and bottle of water on your desk when you get home. You're not yet willing to destroy the evidence of your brief encounter. 

**OCTOBER**

**5.**

You've been at Arkadia High for a month but you're comfortable now, you've settled in. Your parents tell you that they had no doubt that you would, they've raised you with confidence and grace and charm and they fully trust you to go into a room of people you don't know and come out with fifty new best friends. And it's not hard to make friends in your school either; everyone is nice enough, pretty enough, talented enough and you slip into a few groups easily. There's Finn and Raven and Wells, obviously, but you've also met Bellamy Blake, a boy so pretty you're pretty sure that Donatello himself would have been called in to carve his beauty, and his best friend John Murphy who only speaks when he wants to be mean. Your circle grows with Octavia and Jasper and Monty and, suddenly, your days are filled with people. 

It seems though that Sunday's are just yours. Everyone has plans or dates and you generally don't catch up with most people until late afternoon which gives you the morning after Mass completely free. You tend to explore a lot, learning the town and the stores and you like how much of a community it is because you don't want to spend your entire weekend with your _parents_. Mr. Kane waves at you when he passes you on the street and you like that when you pass by people say your name. Indra had worked wonders with the town and you have to really think hard about why some people don't like her.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you reach in to get it. There is a message from Octavia inviting you to a party on the following Thursday and you happily reply with a enthusiastic yes. It's been a while since you've dressed up and had somewhere to go and you feel the need to actually apologise to your make up box for neglecting it so much recently, especially since your weekends in Washington were filled with cheer and parties and weekends that lasted three days. Your art supplies, for a few minutes, go abandoned as you text excitedly with Octavia and Raven about dresses and who will be there and finally,  _finally,_ you feel yourself settling into Polis. Your parents are leagues ahead of you and already talking about future dinner parties and their plans for years to come but you're getting there.

Like you're supposed to. 

"You know, Clarke, this trail used to be a little more predictable before you arrived," makes you smile and you turn away from your phone to look at her. Raven and Octavia completely forgotten as Lexa takes up space. She's once more in her athletic gear but her hair is braided up and away from her face this time, rather than hanging loosely in a ponytail, and you find yourself far more invested in the intricacies of it than you probably should be. "I don't usually see people here when I run." 

"Are you complaining?" The sentence is far braver than you feel when she's stood in front of you and you don't know why she makes you feel like this. Your interactions together are so spaced out, and so short lived, that you're surprised she's left any impression on you at all because you feel you haven't left much on her. Or, maybe, you have because she always starts the conversation. You just...You don't know who this girl is or why you react so violently inside when she's around. "Because even if you are it's not going to make me leave here. It's too nice."

She makes an attractive sound between a laugh and a gasp and you clench at the noise. "No, I'm not complaining. It's nice to end my run and not be alone sometimes." 

Her eyes widen in a way that tell you she probably hadn't meant to say that but you brush it off because you don't want her to feel awkward. If she feels awkward you're sure she'll leave and you're definitely sure you don't want that. You tease her, because you can, because you want to. "Well your running interrupts my drawing, so if you don't mind --" You trail off with a smile to let her know that you're joking but her face set seriously and she suddenly looks uncertain.

"I apologise," and the worst part is that she sounds like she means it. You rush to fix it because she looks so uncomfortable and it confuses you so much.

"I was joking, Lexa," you shrug and hold out your hands towards your hastily drawn river and attempt at a bird as an attempt to show her you're not exactly working on anything special. "You can run and interrupt me until your hearts content." 

She still looks miserable at the thought that you could be mad at her and you have to wonder what it is that makes her like this. You've heard rumors, mostly from Wells and Raven, that Lexa is just as fierce and harsh, more so than her mother, and that's why she's so quiet and isolated. This girl in front of you certainly doesn't seem to fit the talk and the rumor. The way her name is spat across a table like she's some kind of enemy. 

"I'll leave you in peace," she says quietly and you hate that you're not sure what you've done, If you knew then you'd rush to fix it but you can't because she's already leaving and you've lost the chance. "Perhaps I'll see you next Sunday."

You're honest when you nod, "I hope so."

**6.**

For all of your excitement about the party on Thursday it was a bust. Raven had caught Finn flirting with you and while you hadn't reciprocated you hadn't exactly pushed his hand on your waist away either. It had taken Octavia to stop Raven from launching an all out attack on the both of you and you'd left early to stop any further arguments. Finn's eyes, big and brown and deeply guilty, had sought you out the following day at school and you sat together on the steps near the library as you listened to him tell you his side. They'd been best friends since the day the were born, he told you, days apart and destined to be together forever. He'd told you about his fears and his worries; told you that he was scared that he was only ever going to let the genius that was Raven Reyes down eventually anyway. Told you that he was too young to be married or have a future planned out. 

You let him kiss you on the cheek, a fraction too close to your lips to not know his intention, and he'd left with a soft,  _"I hope you think about me too."_

It had been a long time since a boy had wanted you to think about them but Raven's your friend and she'd been nothing but kind and supportive and you had let Finn go on that Friday afternoon with a smile that might have suggested more than you wanted it to. You'd given Raven the weekend to calm down but she left your group chat the night before and now you're at a loss. 

"Honey, are you okay? You seem nervous," Abby asks you gently and you turn to your mom, her features pull into a smile, but her eyes are begging you to stop fidgeting in front of so many people. You nod at her once and she takes that as the truth, which makes you roll your eyes, and she turns back to watch Pastor Jaha continue his sermon. Her dismissal of your obvious distress should sting but it makes you sigh in relief and you settle back against the pew. To your left you feel your fathers knowing gaze on you and you actively avoid him by looking anywhere but at him. Across from your family, and two rows back, you see Lexa with family. The blonde is there again, hushing the little boy on her lap who is busy trying to grasp at the muscles of the younger male. They're all so diverse and they make a beautiful family, you think, but you are intrigued at how the dynamic works. For such a well known family, you know absolutely nothing about them.

"Amen," echoes around you and you quickly repeat it, pressing your fingers against the cross on your neck, before standing with your parents politely. Your eyes drift back to Lexa once more and something jolts in you when you see her looking at you too, her face as expressionless as ever, but you find yourself unable to look away. There's a difference in the way Lexa looks at you to the way that Finn looks at you but they're also so similar that a heat grows inside of you that you haven't felt before. 

It's confusing and needy and you're not sure if you like it. 

You leave with your parents and you wait, like always, for them to impress the neighbors.

\--

For once you see her before she sees you and you walk over to where she's playing with a small boy. He's laughing in delight as she kicks a little soccer ball towards him and he runs on chubby legs towards it, completely missing it, as his hands wave excitedly in the air while he waits for her to pick him up into her arms. She doesn't disappoint and you wait for a second, enjoying the sound of their laughter together, before you approach. 

"Hey Lexa," you greet casually. Your heart beat completely betrays how calm your voice sounds; especially after the way you left one another the week before. "Good Mass, huh?" 

Thankfully she seems to pick up on your sarcasm today and she smiles, her eyes rolling subtly at you, before she nods and answers in that diplomatic way you're getting used to. "Yes, it was very nice. Jaha always has good messages to give to the town." The boy in her arms kicks slightly and she lets out a soft noise before lowering him to the floor, his unsteady legs already a little too excited at the freedom, and you laugh as he topples gently onto his butt. He looks up at you with wide blue eyes and delighted squeal leaves his lips at the attention. Your eyes don't leave him as he pushes himself up, after two tries, before barreling towards the toy once more. 

"He's so cute," you gush, watching as he bends to pick up the ball but fails when his own feet kick it out of reach. "Your brother?"

Lexa stalls at that, face changing from a soft smile to a slight grimace, and she captures you with another deep look. "Nobody has told you?"

"No."

She smiles at that, almost in relief, and nods. "Surprising," she laments and you both take a step towards the little boy as he stumbles once more. "Aden is my nephew. Anya had him at seventeen so, you know, people _love_ to talk about it." 

You can understand that. Young parents are always given far less respect than they deserve but to be a young parent when your mother has a reputation to protect must have been more pressure than anyone would want. You want to say something but you're sure that anything you do say will just fall flat or sound condescending so instead you stand quietly with her, both of your eyes trained on the tiny boy and his fight with the ball. 

"Will you be going for your run later?" Lexa looks at you when you ask your question, brow curved attractively as she seemingly waits for you to deliver a punch line or change your question. Again you find yourself wondering how this girl can be so distrusting, or at the very least guarded, and it pains you to see it on her. "Because I wanted to paint. I was hoping that I'd see you there."

She pauses long enough for Aden to fall over twice more.

"I suppose I can be there."

\--

That day, when Lexa stops it isn't brief and you learn what she sounds like when she really laughs.

 

**7.**

You're beginning to enjoy Sunday's a lot more than you anticipated that you ever would and, you think as you lay back against the smooth rocks next to the river, you know it's simply the company. 

\--

It isn't long before you hear the soft padding of feet next to you and you open your eyes, smiling as you take in the view of Lexa next to the river. She's crouched slightly, hands cupping the water and bringing it to her face and her neck to cool her off. The water must be freezing but she simply repeats the process until she seems satisfied and brings up her shirt--she's started wearing them as Autumn begins to really settle in--to dry at her face. It affords you a glimpse of her stomach and you clench your fists, unsure of the feeling in your chest.

"I brought you some water," you call out, aware that she always finishes hers on her little stop with you and never has any left when she continues her run back into town. Sometimes you let yourself feel bad about it but you like her company too much to really tell her to stop waiting with you for so long. "I figured you'd need it since you only ever bring one bottle and it's important to stay hydrated, right?"

"Yes," she smiles. It takes mere seconds for her long legs to cross to where you are and you shift a little on the large rock you're laying, giving her space to sit or lay or rest. She hops up next to you and stretches out her calves, her long fingers moving over the muscles and working at them for a few moments while she gets her breath back. You know the route she takes is mostly uphill and while it clearly does wonders for her body, you can't think of anything worse. "Thank you, Clarke."

"No problem."

"Where are your art supplies today?" She asks, cutting your brief silence with her soft voice.

You turn to her and it takes you a minute to realized you'd come out all this way without your excuse of art to be here. "I wasn't feeling the muse today, I guess."

"Oh," she nods like she understands and you smile, falling into a comfortable silence once more. "Are you studying art at school or is it just a hobby?"

You're surprised at her question, she rarely asks anything first, but you let yourself be swept up in it. "I'm studying it, yeah, but it's not serious. Mom wants me to study something that will actually get me a job in the future and while the hippy in me would love to just paint for peace, I know that's not going to happen realistically," you shrug and scratch at the back of your neck. "I want to be a teacher."

She seems to like that answer if the light in her eyes is any indication, "I think you'd do well as a teacher."

"You don't know me though," you reply, not unkindly, and she shrug at you lazily. 

"No, but I can tell you're a good person and children need that influence," she answers and you smile at her surprising confidence in you. "You don't want to go into medicine like your mother then?" You want to ask how she knows that but then you remember she knows everything about her town and you shake your head, eyes looking down to your knees a little.

"Mom knows it's not for me. She's taught me a few First Aid skills but I never really had the passion for it, I guess," you had thought she'd scream at you when you'd told her you didn't want to be a doctor but instead she'd smiled and nodded, accepting her disappointment with grace. "I think she kind of dreamed of that for me but she has a hundred other expectations I can live up to instead so she isn't too angry."

Lexa hums nicely and you scratch at your calf, waiting for her to answer. 

"That's nice. My mom has already made it clear that I have one of two options, Business or Politics."

"I could see you ruling the world," you laugh and she makes a face before biting her lip, a move that makes her look her age for once. "What do you want to do?"

Her laugh is almost angry when she replies, "I want what my people want."

And you wish you knew what that meant. 

 

**8.**

You're so late for church on Sunday morning that it's over and people are gathered outside talking. You see your mom talking to Aurora, Octavia and Bellamy's mom, and you cringe slightly when the door to Finn's car squeaks open like it has never been oiled in its life. There's no denying you're still wearing last nights clothes, especially when your heels click against the ground, and you wish you could explain that this isn't quite as bad as it looks. But it's a small town and the floor beneath you practically begins to vibrate with the murmurs that spread though the crowd. A few weeks ago you could have gotten away with this but now your family has established itself in the town, the Griffins are as well known as the Blakes and the Woods and you know you're not invisible anymore. 

In a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood you wave towards your parents but receive nothing more than a scowl from your mother. Your father seems to be memorizing the license plate of the car that belongs to the boy that dropped you off and you feel a sharp stab of worry for the next time--( _next time?)_ \--Finn picks you up from your house or drops you off. It's not quiet as you walk towards your parents but people have lowered their voices considerably as you move between them, almost wanting to hear your rapid heartbeat, and for the first time you really fucking hate living in such a small town.

"I promise," you say quietly as you reach your mom and you're happy she actually turns to look at you. "I swear, I fell asleep at the party last night in Raven's room and Finn offered to bring me to church this morning. There's nothing more to it." You hope beyond anything that the mint toothpaste and the extra hot shower has managed to mask the smell of vodka on you, because wouldn't that just be a delicious addition to the stories of you sneaking out of a boys car, and you cringe while you wait for your mom to reply.

All she offers is a simple, "You're grounded, Clarke." 

\--

You stand next to the car while you wait for your parents to finish up, which after your performance they seem to be in a rush to, and you look up to see Lexa looking at you from across the parking lot. She walks towards you slowly and you wish you could be anywhere else right now than under her gaze because, God, you really had made a fool of yourself this morning. 

"I told you this town was predictable before you came," she teases you and something lifts inside of you that you didn't know had been deflated. "You're quite the talk of the congregation right now. Coming to church after sinning so frivolously."

"I didn't sleep with him. God."

If anything she looks more amused by your rush of explanation than anything else and shrugs at you, almost like she doesn't care. "I'm not here to judge you," she says, tilting her head charmingly. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I know what it's like to have fifty people stop taking and just wait for you to say something embarrassing. They're all harmless in this town but they like a good conversation starter."

"Yeah, did fifty people see you do the not-so walk of shame too?"

She pauses before shaking her head and giving you that look once more. "I keep forgetting you know nothing of this town or the history," she muses, giving a cautionary glance to her left. "It wasn't a walk of shame so much as my girlfriend kissed me right before the church doors opened." 

You don't...

Oh.

**9.**

It's not that you're actively avoiding Lexa, you think, you're grounded. Sure it was lifted Saturday morning and you and Octavia had celebrated with pancakes in the Grounders Diner but you wanted Sunday for yourself, especially after you saw that familiar shade of green looking at you from behind the counter before she directed her gaze away. Octavia had rolled her eyes a little at the display but you hadn't asked her until you were both outside, bundled up as the weather began to change quite considerably. 

According to your friend there was a little hostility due to the fact Lincoln, the guy who warmed Octavia's bed on occasion, was Lexa's brother. You had known that already but you hadn't been expecting the bite from the youngest Blake at how much she disliked Lexa; she didn't like her attitude, or how she acted better than everyone, and she didn't like that she embarrassed Lincoln so much by 'parading around' her girlfriend for all to see. You had heard of the small town mentality being a little different but, in 2019, you had kind of expected it to be a little different. Ideals were different now, right?

"No," your mother tells you that night at Sunday dinner, her fingers curling around the wine glass smoothly and she effortlessly ignores how her husband looks up in surprise. "I mean, as far as people go I'm sure Lexa is a nice enough girl. She comes from a privileged family and I'm sure she'll do well for herself as long as she keeps her teenage dalliances away from her future career plans." 

You have never heard your mother speak so openly about her thoughts before and, it seems, neither has your father. "Abby!"

She sighs, almost irritated at your twin shock, and waves a dismissive hand, "I'm not trying to be rude or anything. I just don't understand why she would put it out there and embarrass her mother like that, Mayor Woods is very respected in the business and medical circles. Her ways may be tough but they certainly work. And from what I hear Lexa is set to take over that role, as long as she doesn't continue her ridiculous displays of affection all over town."

"Embarrass her mother..? Mom, come on. She isn't doing anything wrong." 

"Clarke, please," she continues and you look to your father for help, but he looks just as surprised. "Name one successful homosexual politician. She needs to think her choices through." 

You don't finish your dinner and when you excuse yourself away from your untouched plate you know you're not lying when you tell your mom it's because you feel sick. 

\--

You hadn't expected to see her but you're not surprised when Lexa sits next to you in the park, her own swing stilled while yours rocks back and forth. Her home is only across the street and you wonder if she saw you sitting alone or if she, too, needed space away from a family conversation that she didn't want to have.

"Are you gay?" You finally find the courage to ask and it's so quiet in this town after eight that you can hear in intake of air.

"Only when I'm alone," she says. It's so sad and defeated that you can't help but reach across, your pinky finger tangling with hers slowly as you bring your swing to a halt. "I understand if you want to leave now, Clarke."

You don't say anything because, really, what can you say to that? Instead you wonder how this world can be so cruel. 

**NOVEMBER**

**10.**

The weeks passes quite hectically and you find yourself at Halloween Parties and Bellamy's birthday and, before you know it, it's Sunday once more. The weather has changed a lot and you watch the rain make little rivulets down your window, funny little shapes and zig-zags that you follow with your finger as you listen to your parents rush around getting ready for church. December was always a busy month for your mom so the Christmas Party had been planned for end of this month instead, ensuring as many people could go as possible, but it had been left to your mom to organise and you could hear the frustration in her voice as she adds yet more things to her own to-do list. You hear your father calm her down and then everything goes silent for a minute and you imagine him taking her into his arms, gently kissing her like he would every morning, and you smile. 

You can only hope for a love like that. 

You think back to the Halloween Party, how Finn had come up to you in his Zorro costume and pressed in close while his hand snaked around your waist. He'd long since been forgiven by Raven but she wasn't willing to take him back, her announcement enforced when she'd kissed Kyle Wick--a guy from the boys only school in TonDC--in front of everyone. Finn, it seemed, was completely single and you had felt a warmth inside of you that you still had his attention. You'd be a liar if you said you didn't like it but, in some ways, you knew it didn't feel right too. While you were sure your mom still felt butterflies when your father kissed her cheek, you'd simply felt a ripple of affection through you when Finn had led you outside and kissed you beneath fireworks. 

"Hey kid, you ready?" 

Standing like a giant in your doorway is your dad and you grin, nodding at him as you bound up from your desk chair and follow him out of the room and down the stairs.

One day, you tell yourself, you'll find someone who loves as strongly as your father does.

\--

Lexa isn't at the service and you notice immediately. Anya is there, with the adorable Aden on her lap, and her father Gustus. Lincoln is sat to the side, as always, quite and brooding in his handsome way but Indra and Lexa are missing completely. You hadn't seen them outside like you would usually and, for the most part, the family sit together in unity as Mass begins. There's a flicker of worry inside of you but you dampen it down when you hear Jaha begin his welcomes.

You're not sure why you're so disappointed.

\--

"Did I miss anything important?" Lexa approaches you calmly as you stand with Wells, his conversation about Viswanathan Anand's famous chess move falling silent at their new companion. You don't fail to notice the way Wells moves a little closer to you and you tell yourself to not push him away, tell yourself that he doesn't mean anything ridiculously small-minded about it. 

When it becomes painfully clear that Wells isn't willing to say anything you politely move away from him, taking all of Lexa's attention and keeping your tone light. "Apart from my perfect rendition of  _Be Thou My Vision_? Nah. Not much."

"It's a shame I missed it."

"Where were you?" Wells, you know, is only trying to be kind on your behalf but you can hear the force in his tone and you look at him heatedly. He softens slightly and his cheeks flush in shame. "I mean, it's rare you and your mother miss Mass. Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Lexa clips back before she turns to you. Her mouth opens to say more but you feel a hand on your elbow and she straightens her face so quickly that you're confused. "Doctor Griffin, Mr. Griffin, good morning."

It's impressive as always that Lexa seems to remember everyone individually and with the way your father beams at her, he thinks the same. "Good morning, Lexa. How did you find the service today?"

"Oh, I couldn't make it. My mother and I had some other matters to attend to but I'm sure it was wonderful."

You're shocked at how swiftly she becomes so composed, so elegant, and you shiver a little in response to it. Had she been a guy you know your mother would have melted over her charm, her smile, the way she held herself but you know how your mother feels about the girl already and it doesn't gone unnoticed that the older Griffin woman hasn't really greeted Lexa in any way. 

"Clarke, honey, you didn't tell me you were friends with Lexa Woods. How lovely." You nod at your mom and explain how you'd met, you tell her hat sometimes you cross paths at the weekend. Lexa looks completely amused by the entire thing, like she's used to overprotective mothers and gossiping teenagers, like she's used to being looked at like a monkey in a zoo for talking to a girl.

"Yes, your daughter is wonderful Doctor Griffin."

You see the way your mothers lips tighten, feel the way she holds your elbow tighter, and you wince. "Thank you. We must be going now, I'm sorry."

And there--right there--you knew a friendship with Lexa wasn't in her plans for you.

 

**11.**

"Your mom hates me, huh?"

You sit together at the edge of the river, watching as the scenery changes around you with the seasons, and Lexa holds out a steaming mug of hot chocolate for you that she'd brought in a Thermos flask. You bring it to your lips, the sticky sweetness making you groan and the warmth welcoming after your little walk up. It had been weeks and you'd yet to even trade numbers, but here she was, here you were. Like clockwork.

"She doesn't know you," you defend, holding the plastic mug between your thighs to keep you warm.

Lexa pins you with a look that freezes your insides, despite the warm drink, and you bite your lip. "You know what I mean, Clarke. I'm aware of what people say about me in this town and so are you. Your mother seems like an intelligent woman but I know that respectability is hard to gain and so, so easy to lose. I don't want to jeopardize anything for you over something as weak as friendship."

An anger grows in you the more she speaks and by the time she's finished, her words shaking only a little, you're furious. "Weakness? You think being friends with you makes me weak?"

"I don't --" Lexa cuts herself off and it only makes you more irritated. "There is a reason that I spend so much time alone. I don't want you to have to feel like you have to fill a space you think I have, especially when you have other friends."

You hate that this is the result of small town whispers and you close your eyes. "Shut the fuck up, Lexa. Please."

\--

She walks you towards your side of town at your insistence and she seems to glow at the fact you don't mind being seen with her. Why would you? She was the most powerful teenager in Polis, she was beautiful, but you're aware of what the town has managed to achieve in doing to her image and it makes you ache for her. Finn mentioned once before that Lexa's girlfriend had been friends with someone he knew but he wasn't sure where she was now and it had left you wondering.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

"God," you grin, hitting her gently with the back of your hand. " _May_ I ask you a question?" She nods and her smile is bright; bright enough that it leaves you speechless for a few steps and it isn't until she clears her throat that you remember it's your turn to talk, that it's you who wanted to open up a line of conversation. "Are you still with your girlfriend? I just...When you mentioned her to me you spoke of her being your girlfriend, like you're still together or something." You blush under your own awkward words and wave your hands, head shaking immediately. "Forget it."

She bats your hand down in amusement, eyes wide, and shakes her head at you. "No, we're not," she sighs and you have to wonder how someone can look so pretty with such sad eyes. "The love, however, is still there."

"What's her name?"

"Costia." She sighs it lovingly, almost reverently, and you find yourself a little jealous that another person was able to feel that amount of love from one human being. "She was mine." 

You pause your walking, the town simply lit below as the evening begins to settle. Polis is an expensive town as it stands; doctors and lawyers and tycoons owning property but Clarke can see Lexa's home well above everyone else's and it makes her smile that this simple girl next to her comes from such a background. Lost in her own thoughts it takes a few seconds for Lexa to realise you've slowed to a stop and she turns around, question in her eyes. 

"Clarke?"

You don't try and stop yourself when you move closer and wrap her into your arms, bringing he to your chest to hold her tight. "She was lucky to be yours," you whisper and you hold onto the shaky  _thank you_ you hear in reply.

\--

The only light in your room that night is from your phone; Lexa's number lighting up your face each time you press the screen.

**12.**

 

It becomes far too cold to go down to the river as November begins to fall into December and you tell Lexa that firmly when she texts you, in a huff, asking where you are on a frosty Sunday afternoon. You're all for spending time with her, enough that you had left Octavia's early that morning to get changed into some nicer clothes, but you're not willing to sit in the freezing cold. Instead she offers to meet you at the diner and then, when you hesitate slightly, she corrects it to the library. You feel bad because you're not ashamed to be seen with her but there is something else brewing inside of you that you can't figure out and you're not sure if you're ready to face it quite yet. 

She's sitting at a table near the back when you enter, two cups of Grounder coffee in front of her, and her eyes are scanning the book in front of her. You slow your walking for a moment and take her in; her hair in down and straight but there's a black beanie on her head that doesn't match up to the image of a politicians daughter at all, her legs are crossed and covered in a dark denim and her thick winter coat is laid on the chair next to her to expose her warm green sweater. The image makes you smile and you clear your throat, gaining her attention. It takes all of a minute for you to stop in your tracks again when she looks at you because the full image is a little overwhelming and you don't know why.

"The Devil in the White City," you murmur the title of the book and take off your red scarf, draping it on the seat next to you. "I heard Leonardo DiCaprio bought the rights to film that."

"Leonardo DiCaprio would buy the rights to the entirety of American History if he thought it'd make a good film," she chuckles and you haven't even taken a sip of coffee yet you feel warm all over. She pushes the book away to make way to press the coffee cup closer to your hands. "I wasn't sure how you took it so I made a guess."

You take a sip, the hot liquid burning your lip slightly, before you pull back confused. "This is hot chocolate."

"Yep," she preens a little and you're gone. "I was right, huh?"

You shake your head fondly, blinking once, "Yes, Lexa, you were right."

\--

Your fingers move across the spines of books as you browse, Lexa quietly following you, before you stop abruptly and pick one up. You hold  _Art and Fear_ in your hands, turning it over a few times, before smiling at Lexa. "My dad bought me this when I told him I was really interested in art," you say and you swallow nervously at how interested she actually looks when you speak. "I lost it in the move."

"Where did you move from?" Lexa asks and you're sure she knows, you're sure she's aware that the hospital practically begged your mom to join them because she owns this town, she knows it. But you answer anyway because you know she's trying, because you know she's being Lexa now and not the face of future leaders. You like that she holds this interest in you rather than holding anything over you.

"Washington."

She takes the book from your hands softly, turning it over to read the back herself and find what it is you like so much. "Do you miss it?"

Your eyes don't leave her when you reply, "Not as much anymore."

**13.**

Lexa texts you on the 22nd to tell you that she is going away for Thanksgiving and that she won't be around for your Sunday walk. You try to not be too disappointed but you find yourself quieter than usual anyway and your pout is the punchline for each one of your dads awful jokes. Your mother invites Pastor Jaha and Wells over and cooks the biggest turkey you think you've ever seen, the five of you cutting into it once Mass and all other celebrations are over. 

Your mother practically melts in her excitement when Wells offers to play you in a game of chess, a challenge you happily accept, and you try to not look too put out when she gushes over the two of you and asks for a photograph.

You wonder how she'd react if she knew you'd kissed Finn Collins from the wrong side of town.

You wonder how she'd react if she knew all you wanted was a single text from Lexa this Thanksgiving. 

\--

 **Lexa Woods:**  
Happy Thanksgiving, Clarke Griffin.

And you wonder what you did in a past life that gave you such luck.

**DECEMBER**

**14.**

Raven seems to give Finn the green light when she sees his persistence in you. You know that he likes you, you're the talk of the school and while you think it's kind of pathetic you're also enjoying the attention. To your mothers credit you can understand why she likes being seen in such a good light all of the time and when Finn asks you in the middle of your art lesson to the Christmas Dance, you say yes because the sound of 'aww's' is too much to pass up. There is still something missing and you don't know what it is but you're sixteen. Rather than worrying about what it is you decide to see where things lead and how they develop. 

Your mom isn't entirely  _thrilled_ when you tell her about the boy with soft hair and softer eyes but she isn't angry either, she simply adjusts her plan for you once more. Wells, it seems, is firmly out of the picture and you almost laugh when she tells you to invite Finn over for dinner as soon as possible. You decide to put that off as much as you can and, instead, spend the week getting to know the boy a little better. Finn is nice and you can't deny that; he has a love for Geography and there's a world map in his room with little pins in it of where he's been. Mostly it's limited to America but you're in awe of the pins in Europe, of his stories about Paris and Venice and Madrid. You're aware he's allowed this because of his uncle, Dante Wallace. You're not sure who he is or what he does but you do know he owns some business out West, a self made millionaire with one son and one nephew to spoil. 

You stay at his house Saturday night and you let him take your shirt off. He shies away respectfully when you tell him you're not ready and, instead, hands you a shirt and turns away while you get changed which only serves to make you smile a little wider. Finn is nice and respectful and kind and you have to wonder what more it possibly could be that you want, because it's something. Something feels wrong and you hate it. 

 _"Stay,"_ he whispers early Sunday morning, his lips teasing behind your ear.  _"Let me take you for breakfast. Let me kiss you a little longer."_

You say no and leave him with a short kiss and a soft look. He's beautiful in his messy bed and his scruffy hair, a hint of stubble on his chin, but there's a tugging in your gut that makes you leave. 

It isn't until you see her silhouette in her car as they park up that you know what that tugging was.

\--

"The town is abuzz with gossip," Lexa hums to you, hidden away from eyes as you stand just off to the side of the church. "You and Finn Collins."

There's something in the way she says his name that makes you think the subject isn't one she wants to have and you're not sure why she'd bring it up if she didn't enjoy it. But she's your friend and Sunday's are yours, hers, you're not sure, but you know you want to tell her and explain your side. Because she's there and she's pretty in a different way to Finn but it still fills you with warmth and need and it's so utterly confusing. 

"He asked me to the dance," you reply and she nods, her jaw tight. "I said yes."

She nods again, and again, and again.

"Clarke, come on, we're leaving" you hear your mother shout and you send Lexa a pleading look, unsure why she's standing silent. You're getting as impatient with her as your mother is getting with you and you bite at your lip before Abby shouts once more, her motherly tone startling the both of you. "Now please." 

\--

 **Clarke Griffin:**  
I'm sorry our Sunday was cut short.  
Next week?

 **Lexa Woods:  
** Of course. Unless you have plans.

 **Clarke Griffin:  
** Sunday's are ours. Right?

Lexa doesn't reply, no matter how many times you tap your screen to keep it lit, hoping for a reply, and you ignore how it vibrates with another text from Finn. 

Sunday's quietly became your thing, you were sure of that, but looking at your messages you're not sure if Lexa sees it the same way. That thought plays on you and when you wake up the next morning, your phone beneath your face, you hope you didn't make the whole thing up.

 

**15.**

Your new relationship with Finn is immediately outshined by Octavia and Lincoln when the latter walks right into Arkadia High School and kisses the girl in front of everyone. You don't mind, Octavia is smiling brightly and Lincoln looks ready to burst as he spins the girl around in his arms. Finn laces his fingers with yours as you both watch the display, turning away once Octavia decides to wrap her legs around Lincoln's waist, and you smile to yourself as Finn presses a kiss below your ear. 

"Okay, Romeo, let's go," you hear cut through the crowd and, like the Red Sea, it parts. Between the people you see Anya and Lexa walk towards their brother, taking complete control of the situation, and you watch in awe as the people who had been cheering for your friends go quiet. Anya's voice is powerful but it doesn't wipe the smile from Lincoln's face. "Mom is waiting outside and this lovesick thing has been going on long enough."

Finn is still pressing gentle kisses against your skin when Lexa turns to look your way and you freeze instantly, tightening your grip against his hand which he mistakes for pleasure and chuckles against your jaw. Lexa, for her part, simply watches it happen with an expressionless face before she looks away from you and back to her siblings. You know her dismissal is because of her self-imposed rule of not talking to you in public, of not wanting to embarrass you, but it still stings when she completely overlooks you. 

She doesn't say a word before the three leave together and, when Finn finally looks up at you with his dark eyes, your heart sinks. 

Sunday needs to come quickly.

\--

It becomes obvious that by late afternoon, Lexa isn't coming. 

\--

Your mom is on a late shift at the hospital and your dad is having a poker night at one of the neighbors houses, so when there's a knock at your door in the middle of your Real Housewives run you know you're pretty justified in your terrified little jump. The sound rings out again and you stand, placing your bowl of noodles onto the large coffee table, before heading to the wooden doors that kept the cold out. You raise your eye to the peep hole and your heart jumps slightly at the image of Lexa standing patiently, her hair pulled back and her stance as regal as ever. 

"Hi," you breathe out, the door having being tugged open quicker than it ever had before. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Sunday," is all she says before quickly adding on. "It didn't feel right not talking to you." 

You can tell she's nervous with the way her eyes dart to your neighbors homes and you wait for the twitch of the curtains, of the people who will suddenly need to empty their trash just to catch a glimpse of the lesbian in the suburbs. The thought makes your jaw clench because this girl, this wonderful, powerful, intelligent girl deserves so much more than a label and a town that wasn't ready for her. 

"Where were you?"

She looks at you like you already know the answer and you want to grab her, shake her, tell her that  _you don't fucking know_ where she was but she takes pity and sighs, "I was with my mom. She needed me."

It's a lie. You know it's a lie. She knows it's a lie.

But she's here now. And you'll take what you can get. 

"You wanna come in? I have noodles and trash TV," you offer and it pulls a smile from the girl, a smile you wish you could bottle and free whenever you felt cold. "It's kind of an epic combination."

She hesitates and you know the answer before she does, "I shouldn't. My sister asked me to have Aden tonight so I should probably go. I just...I wanted to see you, that's all."

"I wanted to see you too."

Sometimes Lexa looks at you like she doesn't quite believe you're real.

And God, does it make you feel special.

 

**16.**

You text Lexa that you're going to be a little late when you meet her because you have something important planned and she tells you that it's fine, to let her know when you're ready, and it makes you smile. You're pretty sure nobody knows about your friendship with her and that pains you a little because she's so genuine that you have to wonder if she's real or just a figment of your imagination; because nobody else seems to see her how you do, nobody seems to understand her. She told you once, through text, that she's not as lonely as you've made in your head and that she has plenty of friends at Polis Academy where she attends with her siblings. It's a school in which only the elite seem to send their children and while Abby had said that you could go there, you'd settled on the more reserved Arkadia High. 

Although, thinking about it, you wouldn't mind catching a glimpse of her uniform. 

Wait.

What?

\--

"What is this?" 

She's looking at you with a mix of confusion and anger and loss and it makes you laugh into your milkshake. You're in the backroom of the diner, Gustus letting you through with a concerned look and you'd ducked your head low in shame. You knew that despite what Lexa said she didn't have people she brought back to the diner often and you could see it in his fathers face, his untrustworthy looks as he walked past the room you were in together. 

"Where I'm from when someone gives you a present they say thank you," you tease, raising your eyebrows at your friend. She flushes prettily and you ignore how pride fills you that you made her do that.  _You._

"Of course, no, thank you," she whispers, still holding onto the drawing. It's nothing special but you thought she'd like it. It's from your days at the river; it's of Lexa, calf deep and serene in the water as she relaxed and, for once, actually looked her age. She'd stayed still long enough that day for Clarke to get a fairly decent start but, when she'd finished it a week ago, she couldn't think of a better Christmas present. "You didn't have to do this."

"I know," you shrug and finish the milkshake, moving it to the side politely. "I wanted to."

She's quiet for such a long time that you think you've done something wrong, something offensive, and you push your chair back just to hear some noise. Outside you can hear the chatter of customers, of excited children talking about Santa and weary parents completely tired of shopping and hiding presents. You still don't know why she won't let you be seen with her, you wish all of those people could see the sensitive girl in front of you now. The girl they think it's okay to talk about.

"Nobody has ever bought me a present before," she shrugs like it isn't a big deal and you press your lips together. God, you think, she's only sixteen. How can people wear her down so much already? "Except Costia, but..." When she trails off you know she doesn't want to talk anymore and you put your hand on her knee. It doesn't take long before she's turning it around and chattering about a documentary she saw about Rodin she thought you might like. 

Feelings for Lexa, you come to decipher, are nothing short of weakness.

And Lexa is nothing but strength.

\--

You're leaving the diner from the back door when you feel a hand on your arm, large and warm. You turn to see Gustus and take a step back, swallowing nervously, before he lets go of you. 

"That's my baby in there," he tells you, voice low, eyes dark. "She's been through enough already. Do you understand me?"

You nod, even though he hasn't really said anything, and quickly make your exit. 

You fucking hate small towns.

 

**17.**

"How are things with you and Finn, darling?" Your mother grabs your attention as you walk into the church, your scarf doing nothing for the cold in the air. You'd ignored your dad's laughter when you'd asked, earlier that week, for a new winter coat and instead you buried yourself into the warmth now as you made your way inside. As always the church grew in numbers the closer to Christmas it got and you never understood why. Faking your faith surely had to be worse than not having it all if God was real, right? You knew your inner musings were nothing more than a delay timer for your mothers questions but her soft nudge let you know your time was up. 

"Fine, it's still early," you reply, eyes casting around the large room for a brunette with dark eyes. "He's nice."

Your father chuckles deeply from behind you, shaking off the small dusting of snow on his shoulders, and his hand pats your head. "Not that we'd know anything about that, huh kid? You never talk about him."

"Dad," you mutter, straightening your beanie. Your cheeks pink when you finally find the girl you were looking for and she smiles at the display, looking between you and your father fondly. If Jake sees, and you know he does, you're glad he doesn't say anything. "I'll introduce you both to him when I'm ready."

Your mom pipes up before your dad can with a swift, "Don't wait too long, honey," and you smile at how she manages to completely miss the point. 

\--

The service is one of your favourites and you're not afraid to admit it. The idea of charity and giving back has always rung true with you, but everything seemed more wholesome and solid as the community came together and agreed to do more over the winter break. You had volunteered to visit elderly people after school, something that hadn't been offered before, those without families during the holidays, and you'd been unable to avoid the soft look Lexa had sent to you. You already knew Lexa had her own charitable work to do over the holidays, surely her mother's position meant she had been signed up for things, and you knew the Grounders was being opened to the homeless on Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning. Yet that didn't stop the disappointment when you were told you were to visit Mr. Miller with Monty Greene instead of Lexa.

While everyone else was distracted talking about decorations and presents you walked outside, filling your lungs with the frozen air and taking a minute for yourself. Christmas was a rush and you loved it but, sometimes, you just wanted the quiet that came with being alone. 

"That was a really nice thing you offered to do," Lexa says quietly and you're glad, despite wanting to be alone, that she's here. Which is confusing in itself. But, with Lexa, you've spent the last four months confused. "Visiting the elderly and stuff. I mean I've thought about it but I'm usually doing a drive or fundraising with my mom. Nobody else our age has ever really offered to do something like that before. Thank you, Clarke. You and your ideas are amazing."

She sounds so political sometimes that it makes you want to scream but her eyes...Her eyes look so honest that you can't question if she's being genuine because you know that she is. 

"Everyone deserves to have someone with them during the holidays," you tell her pointedly and she looks away for a second, just long enough to leave you bereft. It takes a second of bravery but you step forward, still unsure where you want to go with this, to you grip her coat and coax her to look at you with a breathy, "Lexa..."

You want to scream when the doors to the church open and everyone spills out, Lexa getting lost in the crowd and giving you enough space that it seemed like she was never there to begin with. You hate it, you hate that she keeps doing this because she's scared of what others with say, because she wants to protect you, because she's an idiot who you can't stop thinking about. 

And you're starting to think you know what it means.

 

**18.**

Raven, in all of her dramatic glory, practically kisses the ground when Christmas Break starts. She leaves the school in a whirl of excitement and cheer that rubs off on you even if you weren't expecting it to. There's a few days before Christmas starts and the parties begin; Bellamy and Octavia host the biggest one that includes Santa's hats, truth or dare and a bottle of Rum that is easily as old as you. You miss Lexa in those few days but you know she's busy with her mom, with things for the town, and you're busy talking to Mr. Miller (who is funnier than you ever thought a person to be) and having fun. Sometimes you feel guilty, you wonder if Lexa is okay, but then Octavia mentions a party the Woods are hosting--that she isn't invited to, awkwardly--and you remember she has a life away from you. 

There are times that you think you live two lives. One with Lexa, in Polis, at your lake and your library and tucked away in the corner of the diner and one without Lexa, in Arkadia, with your friends. While a lot of the time you hate it, you hate her self-imposed exile, you're kind of glad because in those moments you get the real Lexa and you get her for yourself. You still wish everyone else could see her like you do though but Lexa is smart, and you're sure she knows what she's doing. 

\--

 **Lexa Woods:  
** Merry Christmas, Clarke Griffin

\--

You're home alone again when the knock comes but you're expecting it this time. The only lights in your home are the fairy lights dotted around, blinking their festivities despite Christmas being over. On your wrist is a brand new watch from your father, around your neck a necklace from Finn, and covering you is perfume from your mother. All in all you've enjoyed it, but you can't deny how you heart speeds up when you open the door to see a smirking Lexa Woods.

"Merry Christmas," you whisper, despite it being over for days, and you reach out before you can even think to grab her hand to tug her inside. She stumbles slightly, the corner of the rug in front of your door getting caught beneath her feet, and you smile at her. Under the lights she looks prettier than you've ever seen her; eyes dark with eyeliner, her body shining slightly with what you think might be excess glitter from a party, her body wrapped in a black dress. "You look nice."

It's out before you can stop it but, then again, why would you want to stop it?

"Thank you, I was at an event with my parents. It was nice," she tells you and you like the way it looks on her; happiness, that is. "I brought you something."

She looks too nervous for you to tease her but you can't help but gasp as she pulls out a camera and bites her lip. It's old-- _vintage,_ you reprimand yourself--quite clearly a Polaroid, and you know it can't have been cheap.  You think you mentioned once, twice if she was lucky, about how you like the look of Polaroid pictures and how you thought the look of them against a bare wall, as decoration, was too pretty. You swallow the fact that she remembered that about you, that tiny detail, and take it from her slowly. 

"I can't --"

"There's no such thing as can't," she tells you seriously but you can hear the waver in her voice, the nerves. "Please. I want you to have it, Clarke."

You nod and pull it close before putting it down altogether on the table and taking a breath. "Thank you so much," you whisper, wrapping your arms around her and holding her beneath the soft lights of your living room. It takes a while but you finally pull away enough for her to rest her forehead against yours, close enough that you can see the fight in her eyes, close enough to taste the soft puffs of air she's breathing out against your lips. "Lexa..."

She closes her beautiful, beautiful eyes and you hate it.

You hate it because you finally know what it means.

"Merry Christmas, Clarke," she tells you and you accept the kiss on your cheek, soft and warm and patient. 

\--

Next Sunday can't come soon enough.

 

 


	2. January - March

**JANUARY**

**19.**

School starts again on the Monday but you take solace in the fact that you have one more peaceful Sunday before the crowds and your friends and homework take over everything once more. You think, as you dress for the weather and tuck your charcoals into your little bag, that you don't particularly ask for much and you hope because of that that the Big Guy upstairs will give you a break just for one morning.

But of course he doesn't.

"Where are you running off to?" Your mother stands in the kitchen to your left as you bounce off of the last step and you cringe deeply enough that you actually stop in your tracks. Out of the corner of your eye you notice that she isn't moving and you just decide to go with it; you know her well enough now to know that any attempt at distracting her only ends up in a lecture. Ignoring her simply isn't an option. Biting the proverbial bullet you give her a little shrug and walk into the kitchen, tilting yourself enough so that she can see your backpack and work out the reason for your little excursion for herself. There's a homemade jug of lemonade on the counter and a few bottles of wine set near the fridge and you can almost guess what will be out of her mouth next, if her perfect attire didn't already clue you in. "Leave that for today, baby. Aurora Blake and her children are coming over this afternoon. Your friends with them right?"

She smiles at you and, for a moment, you think of the shark documentaries that Lexa tells you about when you're together. She doesn't watch them all the time she says--she _lies_ \--but when she does she likes to tell you little facts about how sharks open their mouth a little as a warning before an attack. 

You wait for the attack.

"Bellamy will be there too," and, you think,  _there_ it is. You know she isn't a fan of Finn but you don't really know why. He might not be a star athlete or on his way to being the next boy genius but he's genuinely nice and he rarely does anything to offend anyone. From the wrong side of town he may be; his hair might be a little too long for your conservative parents and he and Raven are definitely building a bike together that might literally turn your dad gray before his time -- but he's  _good._ He's actually a good person deep down. "He's such a lovely gentleman."

You can't help it when you say, "I thought you liked Wells?"

"Clarke," she dismisses easily, as though your voice was nothing more than a whisper and you pick up an apple in amusement as she lights up a little. "I love Wells, he's a charming young man and any girl would be lucky to have him. I'm just looking at widening your social circle."

"My social circle is fine. I already know Bellamy."

"Good, so it's settled. You'll stay," it's not a question and you narrow your eyes at her, biting into the apple with a force that hurts your jaw and your chest. "I'll get your father to turn on the hot tub. We can make an evening out of it too if the weather stays mild."

Saying 'no' to your mom has always been hard because she has a way of convincing people around her to do things before they've even realised what they've agreed to and you're no different. People often comment how you're alike with your mother in that aspect, say how you can take charge of a group and have them wrapped around your pinkie by dusk, but it's not the biggest compliment you've ever received. You open your mouth to protest but you're too late and you watch her scamper off, yelling something about a hot tub and your fathers reply about the freezing weather is drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Lexa will be so disappointed. 

\--

"Well, this is fun," Bellamy tries and you shiver a little as his deep voice surprises you a little but enjoying how it sounds close to your ear as he chuckles uncomfortably. "You think this has been set up?"

You glance around the room and notice how Octavia has been allowed to bring Lincoln-- _"_ He's _Indra's_ son. Star quarterback," Aurora had boasted and you watched your mother bristle at the challenge--but Bellamy was alone. You'd seen him around school a few times with different girls; his rugged good looks obviously a pull for the other senior girls and you were aware of a rumor about him and Raven that had been started before Christmas. There were whispers of him dating a college girl and from your position you can see his phone lighting up periodically with the name 'Echo'. 

"Like some kind of double date?" Lincoln asks and you throw him an amused look before nodding once. He seems utterly confused for a moment and bites at his lip, not unlike Lexa when she's thinking, and your thoughts immediately fly to the girl again. The last time you'd missed a Sunday she'd been on vacation and it couldn't be helped, you'd had to be sated by a text on Thanksgiving from her and a promise to meet another day. But you'd wanted to see her today, wanted to clear up what the hell had happened at your front door a few days after Christmas.

You want to know if it had left her a little ball of confusion too because she'd bought you a camera and you'd felt her nervous breath on your lips and then...

\--Then nothing. 

Silence.

You're aware your friends are talking about something, probably the amusing encounter, but you find yourself looking out of the window to your right and wondering how late would be 'too late' to turn up and meet Lexa. You don't want to scare or startle her by being so needy, she's like a wild animal in that sense, but you really want to see her. Fuck, so much.

As stealthily as you can you pull out your phone, feel your gut twist when you see the image  _Lexa Woods (4)_ on your screen and it hurts you to know that you've left her alone. 

Seriously, you think as you unlock your phone and scan the messages, what is she doing to you?

\--

 **Lexa Woods  
** I'm here.

 **Lexa Woods**  
Just so you're aware and you don't get mad  
I drank all of the hot chocolate.

 **Lexa Woods**  
So I don't want to rush you but I have to  
go to my French lessons soon.

 **Lexa Woods**  
I guess you're busy. I'm sorry for all of  
the texts. I'll see you next Sunday?

\--

You hadn't realised the afternoon had been slipping away so quickly but you should have; you've been wringing your fingers and looking out of the window for what felt like hours and, God, it has been. Usually you spend until late afternoon with her either reading in the library or out by the river on your favourite trail but instead you'd spent it at home with people who Sunday's weren't supposed to be for.

"Is that  _Finn_ texting you?" Octavia scoffs and you can feel her dismissal of him instantly, you can feel that fire. Because she knows Raven better than you and she saw the heartache that fueled the anger that you had to endure when he'd ask you to go steady; she saw the sadness and the tears where you only saw distrust and pain. She knows what Finn is capable of. You know she doesn't like him and, occasionally, you wonder if she even likes you. The truth is you kind of all got thrown together whether you liked it or not and you can practically feel the roll of her eyes when you turn your back. Finn had described her as defensive once and that she had her reasons. Octavia is good like Finn is good, you decide, just in different ways and with different flaws. 

You take the chance though, "I...Yes. He wants to meet up but I'm obviously busy here." Octavia settles you with a look like warms you inside in an unpleasant way, it worries you, but you hold her gaze. She's protective over Raven and she has an image to protect in front of her mom and bother, but she's soft beneath it. You're sure of that. You have to believe she's good too. "I told him I'll meet up with him tonight."

Bellamy laughs deeply and shoves at your shoulder which only serves you to hide your phone against your thigh because you're not sure if he saw the name in your messages. "Just go, we'll cover for your romantic rendezvous. It's not like we're planning a war in here. Have some fun. Do whatever the hell you want, Griffin."

You're up and out of the door before Lincoln can even begin laughing.

You don't question why it didn't make your gut twist when he called your meeting 'romantic'. 

\--

You wait outside of the little house where you know she has French lessons with Miss Tsing and you hope you don't look too ridiculous in your green coat and scuffed dark brown boots. You hope she won't be mad or disappointed or avoid your eyes likes she's so well versed in doing because, truthfully, you hate when she isn't looking at you. When she finally walks out you can't help but notice her little smile, how she carries her books close to her chest and politely let's Miss Tsing finish what she's saying before leaving. Most teenagers you know would have made a run for it, their teachers well aware they bring nothing but homework and tedium to their lives, but Lexa is always so invested in others, so fucking nurturing and you're mad because you left her alone and cold.

(In hindsight when you look back on this day in the future you'll laugh because it isn't the first time one of you walks away and you know it won't be the last.)

It only takes a few moments before she's approaching you at her car, her footprints leave soft indentations on the thin layer of snow on the floor and you know a few flakes have settled on your body from where you've been stood. She shakes her head a little like she can't believe you're stood in the cold and you're proven right when she wordlessly ushers you into her car and turns the heat on full, shivering a little herself despite only have being out in the cold for a few seconds at most. 

You're about to open your mouth so that you can explain, when, "I'm sorry if my messages worried you, Clarke. I understand if you were busy today." She sounds so tired and resigned that you're instantly irritated by her, an irrational heat building in your stomach and your chest that completely tightens your muscles until you feel your fingers curl into the fleshy underside of your palm. 

"Are you kidding me with this routine again, Lexa? You know I'm never too busy for you and you know I'm always going to want to talk to you," you sound as annoyed as you feel and that makes you happy. This tired little act she has of being afraid of you, of being worried you're going to leave this friendship, is getting old and you don't know what else you can do to prove you like her. "Mom ambushed me with a freaking play-date, okay? I was on my way to see you and she told me I wasn't going anywhere. I'm an idiot for not letting you know and I came to say sorry.  _You_ didn't do anything."

There's a look that crosses Lexa's face that you haven't seen before and it calms something in you. You wonder how long you're going to have to keep teaching her that what this is, this thing you share, isn't weak or wrong or taboo. It's friendship and it's warm and it makes you sneak out of arranged dates and perfect family days.

"Okay," she whispers but she may have well have shouted it for the heat it sets off in your cheeks; at the fact she doesn't argue, at the fact she clearly agrees. 

"Okay," you reply.

**20.**

She's listening to something through her earphones, a dull beat that you can't place, and you wonder why when she does it that it's okay. You remember Octavia doing it once when you studied together; you found it rude, ignorant. But Lexa...When Lexa does it you know it's her quiet way of asking for space while she studies and you're okay with that. Instead you find yourself watching her, your left hand sketching the sharp angles of her jaw and the soft curve to her neck while your legs curl under you on the large library chair. There wasn't much homework you needed to catch up on, just a few answers to your history assignment but you knew Kane would let you off the hook if you gave him a special smile and a promise to have it done later that day.

Your phone vibrates against the table and you watch as Lexa raises an eyebrow and her gaze flicks curiously towards the device. Finn's face shines up into the quiet space and you can't help but smile at the image; he'd stolen your phone one afternoon and taken a bunch of pictures, mostly of himself, and you'd saved the most ridiculous to his contact name. He'd barely protested and simply kissed your cheek instead, his smile pressing against the swell of yours and the memory makes a nice flutter erupt in your stomach. The ringing stops and a few seconds later he sends a message but you ignore that too, knowing that you'll see him later anyway and that it was probably him bragging about knocking Jasper out of first place on one of their games.

"I know libraries usually frown upon it but I think since it's just us, and I have no qualms about it, you could have answered that," Lexa smiles tightly and you watch her jaw flex a little, an attractive pull to it that you know you'll try and emulate later when you touch up the drawing resting on your thighs. She's pulled an earbud out so that she can talk to you and you smirk a little, completely amused by how polite she is despite being so obviously put out by the call. You're about to answer but, instead, you watch her put on a new face and take a breath. It's so fucking interesting to watch and see her change from one person to the next and know, _just know,_ that you're the only one who can actually see the minute discrepancies between them. She looks at you from under her eyelashes, a coy smile on her face, and you know she's trying so hard to be the 'best friend' you so desperately want after moving to Polis. "I would hate to see you in the dog house and I know how Costia didn't enjoy it if I missed her calls."

Something drops in your stomach at the mention of Costia and you don't know what it is but you don't like it.

"Sunday's are ours," you shrug and lean across, turning the phone over so neither of you can see the screen anymore.

\--

 **Finn Collins  
** Come over after lunch your with your parents.

\--

 _You're not lying. You're not lying. You're not lying._ You had simply said that you  _might_ have been having lunch with them today and then never corrected it when he assumed those plans were still on. You weren't lying about where you were because, for all he knew, you could have been having lunch in the library...or something. There's a soft tug of guilt in your stomach but you know you're doing this because of Lexa and her screwed up way of thinking that acting like you don't know each other is protecting you.

But it still feels wrong.

\--

You walk back towards your homes together but she stays far enough away from you that you think two people could easily walk between you. She does it a lot, the space, and you sigh a little but you let her do it because this is what she knows and you don't want to lose this friendship. She glances at you once or twice but there isn't much else to the walk, not until she stops at the corner of the street you know she always turns down. You might be new around the area but you're not green enough to not know the streets and you're well aware that her walk home would be quicker if she followed you down Pine Street rather than turn off; but you also know Pine Street is where Octavia and Bellamy live and you shake your head.

"You're going to make me walk home alone?" It was only supposed to be a joke but she bites her lip like she's contemplating actually walking you home and you laugh a little to yourself. "Why do you always turn off here?"

She looks down once, her head angling to the right when she brings it back up and you kind of miss her eyes on you. "I have piano lessons with Maya's mother in the afternoons," she lies, and you know it's a lie because her piano lessons are on a Wednesday. You don't call her out on it though and you glance down the street to make sure it's quiet, only moving forward when you're certain that you two are the only people around. She stiffens a little but you reach out and put your hand on her arm.

"I get it," you lie back to her and she nods once, swallowing roughly. "Next Sunday?"

"Yes," she smiles and, suddenly, your day is perfect.

**21.**

When you see Lexa the following week you can literally feel your heart reach out to her. She looks pale and a little shaky but she smiles at you when you walk down the little path to your place in the woods. You'd told your parents you were hanging out with Finn and you told Finn you had a project to work on with someone you were positive he had no idea existed. Again, technically, you weren't lying; you're not sure Finn even knows Lexa lives in the same town sometimes. He mentions her less than anyone else that you know, just the odd passing comment if her name is already up in the air. You walk towards her and take in her dazed look, flushed cheeks on pale skin and you pout a little in sympathy at how she must be feeling. 

"You look..." Lexa's eyebrows raise at you in a challenge that makes you laugh because honestly, she looks like a strong breeze would knock her over right now. "Cold." She laughs at that but it turns into a rough cough and you shake your head at her because Sunday's are important but so is she. Why isn't she at home in bed? "Come on, you should go home. It's still cold out and the air isn't going to do your chest much good, is it? We can meet up next week." 

There's a look of worry that passes in her eyes and she shakes her head, a pout forming on her lips that has you distracted for a heartbeat too long and you're glad she's so out of it that she doesn't notice. "But I want to spend some time with you." 

"Has anyone ever called you stubborn before? Just wondering."

She shrugs and gives you a smile that actually makes her look her age. "Usually they just call me Lexa."

 --

You end up taking her to the diner and she's too weak to really protest. You're not sure where she's gotten this thought that people are always looking at her because when you usher her behind the counter, hands on her shoulders and quick pushing motions, you're pretty sure that only Gustus looks up from his coffee to acknowledge your presence. He has a look of concern on his face but he doesn't make a move to stand up and walk into the back and you're not sure if the concern if for Lexa's health or the company that she is keeping. You really hope it isn't the latter because you honestly like spending time with Lexa but she always gets distracted by books in the library and it's too cold to sit outside so you're running out of places to be with her. 

(You'll think, later when you're older and wrapped around the person you love, that maybe the signs were there all along.)

You try and stop her but she pushes you away and makes you both a hot chocolate to drink and sneaks you both a blueberry muffin from the extra stock cupboard. She still looks unwell but she looks warmer than she had ten minutes ago and you put it down to a win in your books, sitting down and urging her to do the same when it becomes clear there is nothing else for her to keep herself busy with. You warm your fingers on the mug in front of you, smiling at Lexa in thanks, before she looks up to you when you clear your throat.

"Your dad doesn't like me," you say, almost mimicking what she had asked when your mom made it clear that Lexa wasn't too welcomed into the groups that congregated outside of the church. For a medical professional your mom sure knew how to project her own personal feelings but you don't want to deal with that yet; you're not sure  _how_ to deal with that yet. Lexa stays quiet for a minute, like she's figuring out what to say, and you wish that sometimes she'd just say what she was thinking rather than construct replies she thinks would be more appropriate. 

"He doesn't trust many people," she finally replies and you lick at your lower lip. You can hear the underlying meaning to what she's actually saying and you're not sure why it hurts you. "He's just protective after everything that happened."

"Costia?"

She nods at that and you hate how her eyes cloud at the name. You'd never asked what had happened--beyond knowing that Lexa had been thrown out of the closet--and while people in the town were always willing to give you their opinions, you know the only person who really knows what had happened that day was the girl sitting in front of you. "Not Costia," she denies once she's let your words sink in, a pretty frown on her face. "Obviously she had something to do with it but it was  _after_ that things changed. One minute I had a girlfriend who lived three doors away, who'd lived there all of my life, and then in a month she had left and the town made it pretty clear her aunt took her away from my, you know, influence."

You sit quietly while she sinks her teeth into her lower lip and you don't know what to say. You still don't know the full story but you can figure it out; Costia's aunt had moved away once it became clear she was in a relationship with a girl and Lexa had been left behind to deal with the town that had forced it to happen. You move to reach across, to cover her hand with yours, but she pulls herself into her own body and you let your hand rest on the table instead.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugs and gives you a tight smile. "It's okay. I shouldn't have been weak and let her kiss me, I should have protected her or done what I could," she whispers and you can tell she regrets this opening up so you stay quiet, hoping she'll continue. "We only had to wait a few years and then we could have gone to college together, we could have left this town. My parents were okay with it; I mean my mom needed some convincing but my dad and my brother and sister didn't care. But  _Nia..."_

And it's the way Lexa spits the name that you know, you just know, that she feels genuine hate for another person.

"Costia's aunt hates me. She hates my mom too. Says that a woman of her background shouldn't be in politics and tries to pretend that it's about her going to public school instead of her being black. Which it's disgusting because Costia is mixed race but nobody talks about that, you know? Because she's never outwardly racist. And she...And she took Costia from me because I was weak."

This time you don't hesitate and you stand up to take the two steps to where she's sitting and you wrap your arms around her tightly. 

"Love isn't weakness. You'll believe me one day."

\--

Lexa makes you both another drink when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. There is one in the back but you feel rude using it so you walk out to use the customers and walk past tables and tables of people, not one of them looking up at you. It gives you a sort of thrill to know that you're here, with Lexa, and they have no idea about it. And while you wish you could tell everyone that you're friends with her, that she isn't this bad person, you know changing one persons mind from hate to love is easy but changing a group is damn near impossible. 

You're walking back when you see a flash of a familiar face and your stomach drops. Octavia turns to look at you and she smiles, turning her body completely and you see Lincoln walking towards her with two milkshakes. You should have known, you scold yourself, but then you remember how Lexa had mentioned that Lincoln was supportive of her and everything sort of clouds.

"Hey Clarke," she greets and Lincoln gives you a nod in greeting, placing Octavia's milkshake in front of her quietly before sitting in the booth across from her. You can feel the heat of Gustus' gaze at the side of your face and you know Lexa is waiting for you...But you can't move. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I --" And Lincoln looks at you and Gustus looks at you and you feel about two feet tall. "Nothing."

Octavia gives you a disbelieving look but before she can say anything her face changes to a dismissive scowl and you turn to see Lexa walking out of the back. There's something to be said about the way a person visibly deflates in front of you but it pains you more when she makes eye contact and lets her face fall immediately before walking back into the area you were both sat just minutes ago. This is how she wanted it to be, you think, but that doesn't settle the feeling in your stomach. You're pretty sure people are aware of you looking at her and you look away, trying to think up an excuse, but Lexa beats you to the punch.

"Your bag," she says quietly as she stands next to you and you hope you don't look as startled by her swift appearance as you feel. "You left it here yesterday." You look at her and you know Lincoln can see straight through her lie but he says nothing. Instead he just smiles at his sister in greeting and she nods once at him, her eyes skimming over Octavia completely before she sighs. "Octavia."

"Lexa."

She doesn't linger once she's given you your bag and you swallow again, unsure what to do. You make conversation with Octavia for a few minutes before you make you escape, walking out of the diner quickly and onto the street. Everything is so confusing because Lexa is your friend and you're allowed to have friends,  _God,_ but you respect Lexa more than you hate being embarrassed and you tell yourself you'll call her that night and explain. 

You only make it a few steps before you hear your name and you turn to see Lincoln jogging towards you, your jacket dangling from his fingers. He's so tall and broad in front of you but he speaks softly, quiet and polite, and your stomach twists happily that Lexa has someone like him in her life. 

"You forgot this. Lexa brought it out but you were gone," he murmurs as he holds the material out to him and you grasp at it, your eyebrows knitting a little when he doesn't let go. "She's my sister. She's stronger than she looks, Clarke, but that doesn't give you permission to hurt her."

For a friendship, you think, you really are getting a lot of speeches from the men in her life.

"Coming from the guy who is dating Lexa's biggest fan," you scoff and shake your head, dragging your jacket from his fingers. "Look closer to home when you talk about people hurting her."

"You might not understand our ways but that doesn't mean they're invalid," he fires back and it might be the first time you've ever heard his voice raise above his usual low murmur. "The facts are simple; Lexa is like this to protect herself and she's well aware that love knows no bounds. She might not like Octavia but she loves me and she'll support me however she can, just like I will her."

"By letting the town trash her?"

Lincoln's nostrils flare but you can see the indignation in his eyes, the irritation at you calling him out as a traitor to his family. "You don't know the things me and Anya have done to look after her," he growls before he closes his eyes to seemingly collect himself. "She likes you, Clarke. I don't know why because I've never seen you with her but she does and I respect that but she's my sister and I won't see her hurt again."

"I know," you nod, because you do. Because you saw her face when she spoke about Costia and Nia. "She's lucky to have people willing to fight for her like you."

He lets out a little laugh at that and you know that he doesn't dislike you; he's just learnt to distrust an entire populous on behalf of his sister. "Well besides Aden she's the baby of the family," he shrugs, looking fond. "She's pretty much the ruler of us all. We do as she says."

And you know that he means more than just spewing protective speeches.

**22.**

You don't really speak to Lexa after the incident in the diner, bar a few text messages, and you know it's because you're embarrassed of how you reacted. There's a guilt deep in your stomach that you choose to ignore her, despite the fact she's constantly pushing you away, and you wish you knew how to fix it because the dull ache is keeping you awake at night. Your mother has noticed; she's mentioned the bags under your eyes more than once and commented on the benefits of chamomile tea. As always you take her advice in your stride but your attention is never very far away from your phone and you find yourself praying for a message from her more than you find yourself hoping for sleep. 

You're pretty sure you didn't hurt her to the point you'll never talk again but you know that this game you're playing is beginning to feather at the edges and you don't like the feeling you get when you think about losing her. 

You let yourself wonder for just a fraction of a second if this is even worth the trouble but you know it is.

_You know, you know, you know._

She's sat at the back corner of the church parking lot when you arrive and you excuse yourself from your parents before assuring them that you'll join them in a minute. Your mom gives you a look but is distracted enough by your dad that you're able to make your escape and walk, as calmly as you can, towards where she is sitting on the wall outside. There are people around because your mother always insists you arrive earlier than needed but they're not paying you any attention and you sit next to Lexa, your body perpendicular to hers and you look down at your shoes when you feel her stiffen minutely. 

"Are you not going inside today?" In truth you know your voice shakes a little but you try and keep normal. It's hard because you've missed her and you're not sure if she's mad at you or if you're okay--(because this is what she wanted, right?)--or if she's weighing up her options of not being friends with you at all. That last thought sets something dark off in your chest and you feel your face heat up a little, your breathing heavier. 

She nudges you a little and you sigh out happily as you enjoyi the playful touch. "Anya said that this weeks sermon is about how we're all valuable to God," she scoffs and you place your hand next to hers on the cold wall, your pinky finger barely brushing hers, and you're surprised when she doesn't move away. "I'm not sitting in there with a bunch of hypocrites. How can they say I'm valuable to God and then tell their daughters to stay away from me in school?" Her gaze is darker than you've ever seen it before and you bite at your lip, pulling it into your mouth and then letting go as you try and figure out what to say. 

"You are valuable to God," you whisper because she is and because she's important and because not everybody views her like the people in this town do. "It doesn't matter what they say."

"Do you know when I came out there was a sermon two weeks later asking if homosexuality was a choice? These are the kind of people I'm working with," she whispers back and you close your eyes. Back home it was nothing like this; people were out, they were in relationships and sure they probably had their hate but you were oblivious to it because you didn't think you needed to know more. Sitting next to Lexa though you wish you knew more, you wish you knew what to say. Girls like Lexa didn't deserve people turning against her because of who she loved. "I don't want to go in there."

"Then don't." You're not sure where this little burst of courage has some from but you stand from the wall and you hold your hand out to her. She hesitates a little too long but you reach forward and grip at her fingers, your thumb brushing at her knuckles. "Come on. Let's go?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

\--

You end up walking to the local park near her house and sitting on the swings. It's very reminiscent of the time you asked her if she was gay a few months ago and you remember, with startling clarity, of her reply. Trying to comprehend how people could be so small-minded is difficult and you try and turn your focus away from that; instead choosing to focus on the girl next to you, the one who sits a little too straight on the swing and ensures her shoes don't scuff at the dirty ground below you. 

"I'm sorry I left you at the diner," you finally tell her, your heart a little heavier than it had been a few minutes ago. You can remember her face, how it had fallen, and you can remember how Lincoln had looked at you when he'd told you not to hurt her. "I didn't know what to do. You're so adamant that people can't know we're friends, which I still don't get, and I figured that walking back behind the counter would be a little too obvious."

"It's okay," she shrugs and you can tell she means it. You don't know if that's because she really understands or if it's because she's used to it. "I asked this of you."

At that you set her with a dark look and she flinches away a little. "I still don't understand, Lexa. You're my friend. I don't want to hide that, especially when you're such a good person. It's not like we're dating, is it? We're just friends and I don't understand how that can be seen as anything than good."

"How do you think Octavia would treat you if she knew we were friends?" 

The question she poses makes you halt in your own passionate response for a few moments and you try and really think about it. Octavia seems to dislike Lexa more than most, and you still don't know why, but you think it has to do with her desire to fit in and not be so ignored. You know she's tired of always coming second to Bellamy and any chance she can have to prove herself, to fit in, you think she'll take it; even if it means tearing down another. Maybe that isn't the real Octavia, you think, but it's the Octavia you're dealing with at the minute. 

"I don't care."

Lexa sighs and you hate the noise. "Yes you do," she argues tiredly and you place both of your hands on the rope of your swing, turning yourself to look at her. "If you don't think I don't want to live in peace too then you don't know me very well at all but the truth is everyone has to want peace together. I'm different to others, Clarke, I want different things for this town and people don't always respond well to change. I don't want to drag you into that." 

"Maybe I want you to." 

"Clarke," she lets out a laugh but she doesn't sound happy. "You're so driven to fix things but this isn't something you can fix." 

You look at her and you wonder how hard it is for her to trust you, to believe you want to understand and help. 

\--

A sleek black car pulls up near the gates of the park across from you and captures Lexa's attention from your conversation. You'd been discussing your favourite films and you'd enjoyed the blush on Lexa's cheeks when you'd suggested the only reason she liked Seven was because of Gwyneth Paltrow. Her lips part a little in annoyance but she stands from the swing, her arms folding behind her back and you look at her in a little confusion. It's so rare that you see the side of Lexa that she shows in front of her mother,  _in front of her people,_ that it shocks you slightly and you realise you're so used to your Lexa. The one who appears every Sunday. 

"Lexa," a deep voice calls across the quiet park and you look to see who was calling her. A tall man, bald, immaculately dressed stands in wait for the teenager and he doesn't move an inch as he keeps his eye on her. "Come."

You can't help it when your brows furrow and you reach out, holding onto Lexa's wrist. "She's not a dog."

"Clarke," she whispers and, once more, you don't know what to do. You want to respect her wishes and you don't want her to get into trouble with the people she surrounds herself with, but she's too young to be dealing with all of this. "I have to go."

"Yeah," you scowl but you don't look away from the man stood waiting. "I'll see you next week, right?"

She smiles at that and you feel her fingers brush yours as she removes her wrist from your grasp. "Sunday," she promises and you watch her leave.

**FEBRUARY**

**23.**

It might be cold but it's worth it when you're sat in your spot next to the river; the soft flow only masked by the melodic sound of Lexa as she laughs at you and you feel you cheeks pink from something other than the bitter chill in the air. You're not good with the cold, you don't like it and you always find it harder to warm your body up than any of your friends. While Raven and Bellamy would be cosy by the fire in Monty's large living room, you'd still be shivering under a blanket and glaring at the person who made you leave the comfort of your house.

(Usually Finn.)

But he's far from your mind as you watch Lexa shake her head again, probably at you, and you dig your fingers into the material of your coat to stop yourself from reaching out and touching her. Finn is wonderful and kind and when he kisses you he's so gentle and you swear you can feel him smiling, but Lexa is here now and her laugh is beautiful and you wish you knew what it all meant.

"Is Titus his real name?" You ask once she's calmed down a little and she lets out a tiny snort, her eyes widening in embarrassment but you don't say or do anything to let her know how cute she is right now. Her hair is up high in a ponytail, a few strands falling loose around her face from your walk up and you itch to draw her or capture her on your Polaroid, just to relive this little moment again. "Because it's ridiculous."

"No," she chuckles and you feel bereft when her eyes leave yours. "It's his surname. His first name is Richard, I think."

"So," you pause thoughtfully before shooting her a wicked smirk. "He's officially Dick?"

And she laughs again.

\--

"So how much trouble did you get into for not attending church last week?" She asks when you both decide to walk further into the woods. The scenery is beautiful in the winter but the trees are beginning to change once more and the snow has all but melted from January--a welcome blessing--but everything has a tint to it that's almost romantic and you can't help but be distracted by it all. You barely pay attention to where you're walking and you completely trust Lexa to guide you, to keep you safe, and you wonder how you must look to her with glazed eyes and an artists smile. 

"She wasn't happy but I told her that I didn't feel well and that I needed air," you reply easily with a shrug, leaving out that you'd mentioned that Finn and your mother had brightened. You hate that.  "I made sure to sing extra loud today though, did you hear?"

Lexa lets out a soft noise and you turn to look at her. She's blushing just slightly, her jaw working like she's forcing words back down into her chest and you wish, you wish, you wish you knew what she was going to say to you. The guards she has up always slip but she's so determined to build them again that you don't want to do anything to risk not hearing that laugh so you let it go. "Yes, I think everybody heard you."

"Good," you preen, nodding once. 

You both don't speak again for a little while and it's not because you don't want to. You're too busy losing yourself in how everything sparkles and shines as the seasons change and Lexa seems determined to beat some kind of personal record of walking through the woods and clambering over every fallen tree that she could just walk around. Like this she doesn't seem like some politicians daughters whose weekends are filled with educational activities and whose future is planned completely to the end. She doesn't seem like an isolated teenager, scared of being herself and upsetting her town. 

She's just Lexa at her best. 

\--

Together you walk back to town and you see the turning she usually takes, leaving you to walk home alone as though you'd never been in her company at all. She slows her gait a little and you know it's because she doesn't want to leave you just yet but she's waging a war in her mind that you're not sure you're privy to just yet and, instead, you follow her lead and walk a little slower. She inhales slightly, like she's going to say something, before she breathes out quietly and says nothing at all.

She's so frustrating and so addictive all at once.

"Do you have piano lessons today?" You ask, mostly so that you don't walk away from one another in an awkward silence. 

She hesitates before shaking her head. "No, the family are on vacation this week so I won't be attending," she says. You look at her and wait patiently, wondering what she's going to do now and why she didn't lie to you. It would have been so easy to act like you were both going in opposite directions and you know how nervous she is about letting your friends see you together, but you stand firm. "I'm going straight home."

"Okay," you nod and you bite your lip as you both walk past the turning she usually walks down to hide herself, to keep you safe.

And it's weird because the world doesn't stop turning, people don't stare, and you both walk home with barely an acknowledgement.

You don't fail to notice, however, that Lexa had been shaking the entire time.

 

**24.**

When you approach her outside of the library the Sunday after your pretty walk, she greets you with a secret smile and you wonder if it's for you or the two hot drinks you hold in your hands. She looks pretty again; her hair is down this time and she's wearing the skinniest jeans you think you've ever seen with a loose sweater covering her torso. She looks warm and inviting and you find yourself wishing you could greet her with a hug that you can sink into. You want to feel the soft fabric of her sweater against your cheek, the grip of her hands around your waist, and you only just manage to pull yourself out of your little daydream by the time that you reach her.

(Once more, in the future, you'll wonder how you never saw the signs until much, much later.)

You know she's picked the library because it's warmer than sitting outside. The past few days the weather seemed to have changed and the ground has gone hard once more. She text you telling you that she needed a few books for school but you know she's lying because she's about two months ahead of her workload and you're aware she's picked here because she's well aware of how much you hate being cold. 

"So what are we researching this week?" You ask as you place yourself, and both of your drinks, down on the table. Mrs. Kane, the librarian working today, likes Lexa and as long as neither of you make a mess she's happy to let you snack between reading. Lexa shrugs and grabs the first book she sees and throws it on the table as she adjusts her large sweater before sitting down. You raise your eyebrow at her. " _1491: New Revelations of the Americas before Columbus,_ nice." 

"It'll do," is all she says and you don't need much more to convince you that she chose the library over her favourite place in Polis just to keep you warm.

-

You're halfway through sketching a picture of Raven's necklace from your mind when she shocks you.

"Are you doing anything for Valentine's Day?" For a second you think your heart actually stops and you blink at her before she's speaking again, barely giving you a chance to wonder why you reacted so nervously and why she was asking you. "Or is Finn planning a surprise?"

_Finn._

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I knew what he was planning," you retort and you spin the pencil in your hand. She won't meet your gaze and you wonder why, you wonder what is going through her mind that has her both distracted and determined to bring the cheapened holiday into conversation. "I think we're spending the day together on the Saturday since it lands on a weekend this year, but I don't know of anything special."

She nods at that before her eyes go blank, dark. "I won't be here next Sunday," she tells you and you feel your stomach drop. "But I suppose that's a good thing because you'll be with Finn on Saturday and this way you can spend the following day with him too and --"

"Where are you going?" You cut her off because, for some reason, Lexa talking about Finn makes you feel dizzy. She goes quiet and she looks so nervous and scared that you don't even try and fight the urge to place your hand on her arm, your brows creasing in worry. "Lexa?"

"Costia's parents are with her in California," she tells you and while you knew that Nia was her aunt you didn't know the extent of the family dynamic. Lexa seems to pick up on that too and she clears her throat, explaining everything to you. "Her parents are both working doctors without borders. They left for a year and Nia is her mothers sister so it only made sense of Nia to look after her, you know? They were supposed to come back the year everything went wrong but there was a crisis and they were needed to stay and help with aid."

"Are her parents okay with her being gay?"

"Bisexual," Lexa corrects before shrugging again and that word strikes something in you that you didn't know existed. "I think they had an idea. When they lived near me I was around a lot and I think they worked it out but then they had to leave and then Nia moved in to look after Costia...Our timing was all wrong." 

You nod a little before a confused pout breaks your lips. "So, she's with her parents again?"

"Yeah," she says quietly and you wonder what that means. You wonder if that means Costia will move back to Polis and your stomach suddenly hurts. "Nia rented the house out to Maya's family when she left so they still technically own it but, at the minute anyway, they're with Costia and Nia in California. Cos said something about her parents loving it there and maybe staying permanently but they've invited me down for a long weekend. Nia might hate me but her parents absolutely adore me."

"What about school?" You find yourself in a little bit of a daze because  _fuck,_ what are you supposed to say? Lexa looks so happy and scared and in love and...You've never actually thought about it like that and there's something dark in your chest that you can't shake at the thought of Lexa  _being in love._

She shrugs like she can't see the fight inside your mind. "I'll go Friday afternoon, once classes are over, and fly home Sunday evening," she says and it's so nonchalant that you kind of want to glare at her. "I think I'd like to see her but it obviously means we'll have to cancel next week. Is that okay?"

"Right," you scoff because she's already made her decision and suddenly the library is too warm. You decide immediately that you need to leave. She looks hurt by your dismissal and you sigh while you distract yourself with packing away all of your items and you try to ignore how intently she's watching you scrabble everything into your bag. Your earlier thought hits you and you turn to her, not surprised to find her eyes already locked on you. You can feel that gaze in any sized room. "Are you still in love with her?"

She's honest when she admits to you, "I never had the chance to get over her. She was taken from me before I even knew what was happening."

It's not a yes, you think, but it's not a no either. 

"Does she love you?"

"I don't know," she admits quietly but her eyes are hopeful and you don't know why but you suddenly want to cry. "I miss her though and I want to see her again. We never really got closure; Nia changed her number and deleted her social media, I couldn't do anything."

Your voice cracks only slightly when you say, "you should go and see her, Lexa."

\--

That night you dream about Californian sun and Lexa's smile.

**25.**

She doesn't text you when she leaves on the Friday and you sleep with Finn Collins for the first time on Saturday night. It's Valentine's Day and this is what you're supposed to do with your boyfriend, right? Especially when he's been so patient and loving in regards to your hesitation.

The Sunday following Valentine's day you don't talk at all during the day and you ignore how much it hurts.

You don't think about what she might be doing with Costia on the other side of the country.

\--

Finally, before midnight hits and Sunday turns into Monday, your phone lights up with a message.

 **Lexa Woods:**  
Sunday's are becoming this strange day in which  
I feel I always need to talk to you. 

 **Lexa Woods:  
** I hope your Valentine's with Finn was lovely.

 **Clarke Griffin:**  
I hope yours with Costia  
was perfect too.

 **Clarke Griffin:  
** See you next week, Woods.

\--

It doesn't take long before your phone starts ringing and you feel a lump form in your throat. You've never spoken on the phone with Lexa before; it's not as if you have any kind of aversion about talking on the phone but you're torn between not wanting to hear her voice after sleeping with Finn and being desperate to have her calm you. It rings two more times and you close your eyes tightly before pressing the green answer button, quickly bringing it to your ear.

"Hey Lexa," you smile, and suddenly you feel like you can breathe again.

_"Clarke. How are you?"_

You smile at her voice, how she sounds tired and wide awake at the same time and you smile at how that is so typically Lexa. How she's calling you because she...Fuck, you know exactly why she's calling but you're not ready to think about it just yet. "Good. Church was sort of lame without you to hear my singing this week."

 _"Yes, I have to admit my Sunday was rather lacking without it."_ You hear her laugh and the relief is instantaneous. You don't think about how she evokes a far deeper reaction inside of you from one joke than Finn had the entire day you spent with him.  _"Did Finn end up surprising you after our conversation?"_

There were flowers, a small handmade gift.

There was sex.

But you can't tell her that and you're not sure why. "It was nice," you settle on and sigh softly. "How is Costia?"

 _"Wonderful."_ You're not sure why that hurts so much or why it feels like your life has suddenly gone from naught to sixty in the space of a few seconds. Only a few months ago you were content enough to listen to her just talk to you but now everything is beginning to tilt on its axis and you really wish you knew why (even if you really do). In the blur of your apparent revelation you hear Lexa talking and you bring yourself back enough into the present to hear her.  _"I didn't think it was possible to miss a person as much as I've missed her."_

And you should be glad that she's opening up to you like this, you should feel privileged, but instead you feel like you're losing her. She's supposed to be  _your_ friend, and you know how selfish that is before you've even managed to finish the thought.

God.

What is wrong with you?

"I miss you," and, fuck, why did you say that?

 _"I..."_ You close your eyes because what were you expecting her to say to that anyway? That she missed you? No. She'd been too busy catching up with everything that had made her happy before you had turned up in Polis.  _"I'll be home before you know it, Griffin."_

You only manage to ignore the fact she didn't say that she misses you too because of the way uses the word  _home._

 

**26.**

You spend the following week avoiding Finn at all costs and, to his credit, he doesn't push for physical affection again. If anything he seems just as timid as you are and you're glad for the comfort that it brings; especially now, with your mind a mess over the idea of Lexa and Costia being so close together. There are only so many Google searches that you can go through before you start feeling dizzy but the words 'fluidity' and 'bisexuality' begin to feel a lot less scary than they had back in your old town. 

Which is ironic really because you're pretty sure if you even whispered one of those words here, in Polis, you'd be told to leave before you'd even completed the sentence.

The scariest part isn't learning that, yes, you can like girls  _and_ boys. It's that you like  **a** girl and knowing that, just understanding that one small part, is enough to know you'll lose her. Not because she wouldn't like you back but because she's closed off to love in general. 

You're halfway to the lake, your camera in your hand and your pencils in a bag on your back, when you get a text informing you that she's going to be a little bit late because she has to look after her nephew and it takes everything in you to not run away.

\--

When she turns up she's wearing her gym clothes and it does little to settle the confused feelings inside of you. Her sports bra exposes her stomach but she has a cotton jacket thrown over it, unfastened and loose. You wonder what she's been doing all morning because she looks a little less put together than usual, with her hair high in a ponytail and her eyeliner simple, but you don't ask because she looks tired and relieved to finally get to sit down. 

"Sorry if I kept you waiting," she insists and you wave her off dismissively because her breathing shouldn't be so distracting. "If it helps I ran most of the way here."

"I'd be flattered if I didn't know you were such a health freak," you laugh. You know she didn't run here for  _you,_ and you know she didn't run to ensure you weren't kept waiting, but the thought it kind of nice. "No, screw it. I'll be flattered."

She lets out an amused noise and leans back on the rock, her elbows flat on the hard surface as she stretches her long legs out and you watch her for a few seconds before dipping your eyes back to the view of the river and the steadily active treeline. The animals are beginning to wake as you head into March and you like the noises their little feet make against the softening ground, the quiet flutters and scampers as you sit in silence with this strange, captivating girl. 

"I told my mom I was going for a run to beat my personal best," she snickers and you raise your brow, unaware she lied to her parents where she went each Sunday too. "I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm running a marathon with how long I spend 'running' around this town with you."

That makes you laugh to yourself and she brightens at the noise; something you're sure you shouldn't have noticed, but it heats something inside of you that you're close to explaining. "My mom thinks I'm with Finn. Finn thinks I'm with my mom. It's foolproof."

"Until one calls the other," she argues and you frown.

"If you think I let them swap numbers then you don't know me very well at all, Woods," you counter and she smirks at you. There's a hollow feeling that you both have to hide this but you know,  _God you know,_ that if you said anything your mom would completely ban you from talking to someone like Lexa and Lexa would be 'advised' to stick with the circle of people chosen for her and you can't lose this perfect silence that you share.

It's the best part of your week.

\--

Somehow Lexa convinces you to walk further up the trail, along a path you didn't really know existed, and that draws you both higher than the treeline. She tells you it's open to the public but is rarely used and you could have told her that with the way that your Converse slip on the uneven ground, but she talks about how her mother protected this area and how nice it is and you don't want to ruin the fluidity of her speech with your own stumbling words. Besides, it doesn't exactly take long before you're walking out into a clearing and you let your eyes adjust to the view of the small town below and the expanse of everything around you. Like the last time she dragged you on an adventure though the trees you have an urge to draw everything around you but, to save a little time, you simply pull your Polaroid up.

"You kept it," you hear next to you, just as you snap where the sky meets the trees, and you turn to her with a question in your eyes. "The camera."

"Of course I did. You got it for me."

\--

You stay overlooking the town for an hour longer; Lexa murmuring something about yoga and you let her have this time and waste some of your own afternoon snapping some more pictures to add to your little wall. If some include the serene look that washes over Lexa's face as she calms her heart rate and regulates her breathing then you're sure claiming artistic bias will be enough to cover you. Nobody who looks like Lexa should go without being captured in a picture forever. 

She breaks the silence between you first and you're beginning to think that she's the braver one of the two of you, despite her scared appearance. "Me and Costia are no longer together," she says.

"Oh."

"I wanted to tell you as your texts made it seem that you assumed otherwise," she continues to explain and you fiddle with the tiny pictures in your hand, the shaking of your fingers helping them to develop and you turn it away as Lexa's jawline comes into focus. "I know it may have seemed more of a spontaneous trip to see the girl I love but it was mostly for closure. For both of us."

You nod because you understand that. Lexa had mentioned before how Costia had been ripped away from her without any warning and how there hadn't been a chance for either of them to find their feet again and you know, you're sure, that this will be essential to Lexa finally moving on from her painful past. You know heartbreak can be tough, but you know Lexa is tougher.

"Did you get it? Closure I mean."

She's quiet for a long moment before she nods, "I think so, yes."

"Good," and fuck you should have stopped there but you don't. For some reason you think it's okay to open your mouth again and continue with, "I hear break up sex is supposed to be intense."

 _Nobody_ in your life had ever told you that.

You think back to when Raven and Finn broke up and there had been long silences and, apparently, one night where they had let every piece of anger and sadness go with their bodies. Finn had said that it didn't give him the release he'd been hoping and Raven had said that she'd just felt sad. You try and not think about Finn and Raven like that because Finn is supposed to be yours but oh. What if he wasn't?

Would your guilt disappear? 

Because you love Finn, yes, but you're not sure you could love him as much as Raven once did. 

Lexa makes a soft little noise but it's nothing compared to the rush in your ears, the drop in your stomach.

"You slept with her?" If you could then you'd focus on how annoyed you sound, how irritated, how irrational. It isn't fair because Lexa is your friend and you want her to be happy but she's looking at you with wide, guilty eyes and you don't like how you feel more from that one look than you ever felt beneath Finn yesterday. You hate that you're jealous when you're still sore from your own Valentine's night.

You hate that you know you're jealous.

 

"We missed one another," Lexa says quietly in response and you shake your head because she's always so diplomatic in her answers and you want to scream at her that you're her friend, not one of her people, not her parents. She's talking to  _you_. "Emotions ran high and despite Nia's attempts at --"

"I slept with Finn too, so." Her jaw twitches, moving from left to right slightly, tensing harshly under her words and your words and the irritation at being interrupted. She looks at you and you don't think you've ever seen someone with a gaze that you couldn't place, her green eyes almost grey in colour and her body tense. You want to apologise for blurting it out while she was clearly trying to explain herself to you, like a friend would, but you find yourself shrugging instead. "You don't have to tell me. I get it, that's all."

"Right," she nods. "Right."

You're such an idiot. 

**MARCH**

**27.**

Finn starts to notice around Thursday that you're avoiding him and it's one conversation that you can't get away from, not when he approaches you at Gustus' diner and you're out of places to run considering everyone is looking at you. Lincoln is working and you notice him glance at you protectively when Finn starts to crowd you, his voice growing worried at your avoidance, but you shake your head at him. Finn leaves in a huff when you say you don't want to talk and you fall into a booth, sighing out in relief before you notice the familiar figure of Lincoln walk over.

"Are you okay?" 

You give him a brave smile but he only folds his arms across his chest patiently, "I'm...Do you ever feel like you're losing control?"

"Sometimes I worry that I could lose control," he says instead, head tilting a fraction and you watch him curiously. "My family are very...Mom is --" Lincoln struggles for a second longer before he gives up and sits down across from you. "They know what they want from us and we've been raised to give it without question. Anya is to follow our father into business, Lexa is to follow my mom into politics and I'm headed for law."

You know where he's going with this and you reach out. "You don't want that?"

"I want to be a doctor," he whispers and looks down at the table. "Nobody really knows, only Octavia and my sisters."

"So be a doctor," you shrug, like it's nothing. 

He laughs softly and you see exactly how Octavia fell in love with him. "I might not agree with everything my family does to ensure this town runs smoothly, Clarke, but I'm not a traitor. I owe them." 

\--

Word travels fast and by Sunday you're sure everyone in church is staring at you; the girl who exposed her love life in front of everyone, the undignified daughter of the doctor. You catch Lexa's eyes but you haven't spoken much since you both, awkwardly, admitted to sleeping with other people and you're still not ready to admit why it is such an issue for the two of you.

(Except you do know,  _you do._

The thoughts keep you awake at night.)

"Isn't that your friend, kid?" Your dad asks, his head nodding once to Lexa who seems unable to look away from you. It's you who has to break contact first and you look up at your dad, who looks so knowing and smug and you kind of want to break down there and then and ask him what it is that you're feeling. Dad's know everything, you reason, he has to know why you feel like this. 

You're about to open your mouth to deny it but your mom does it for you instead. "Lexa? No. Clarke barely talks to the girl, do you?" There's an edge to the words and you don't want to risk running your thumb across it and cut yourself. Instead you shake your head and your mom looks satisfied.

You know your dad looks worried, questioning, but you can't tear your eyes from your shoes.

\--

You see Lexa edging around the back of the church as you all leave and you slip away from your parents unnoticed, your feet scattering the small rocks on the floor as you hurry to make your way towards the girl you've been waiting all week to see. She's leaning against the wall when you turn the corner, her fingers flying over the screen of her phone as she replies to a message and you clear your throat to gain her attention. 

"Hello," she says softly and you pinch the inside of your own arm to stop yourself from crying in relief at her talking to you. Even if everything else is a confusing mess, you'll still have Sunday.

\--

You text your mom that you've met up with Octavia and, for the first time in a while, neither of you make a move to leave the church grounds. There is a graveyard a little way up a path and you both walk towards it, absently brushing fingers as Lexa tells you about her piano lessons and you vaguely reply that you've argued with Finn but she seems to pick up that you don't want to talk about it.

"Why does Octavia hate you?" You ask as you sit on a bench and Lexa looks down at her fingers, almost guilty. "You don't have to tell me but I hear the things she says about you and it's not fair. Lincoln is you brother and he's choosing _her_ side. I just don't get it."

"No, it's okay," she shrugs and takes a deep breath. It's enough to let you know that she trusts you with whatever it is she's about to say and you wait silently. "It happened a few years ago, before I came out, and I was figuring out who I was. I was being pushed out because of Anya and her issues, you know? The only pacifist out of all of us is Lincoln so when me and Anya would fight, he'd be the calm one and fix it. Costia and I would...We hated living this life, this 'privileged' life where our futures were given to us and we figured we'd find more if we left. We ran away to some hostel near the mountains, we thought it was romantic. My mom went crazy with worry but I guess with Anya and everything going on there she had to stay home. It was Lincoln who came for me."

You smile because that sounds exactly like something he'd do. "Lincoln loves you."

"I know," Lexa says and you hear the smile in her voice more than you see it. "When Lincoln loves someone it's forever. Octavia is lucky in that sense."

"Family loyalty should always come first though," you insist because she deserves so much more than that. "He should always be on your side. Love might be important but you're so important too. More important than how she makes him feel."

Lexa shakes her head and you grit your teeth at her. "Octavia...She saved Lincoln. Don't hate her because of how she treats me; we mostly stay civil if we have to, we barely speak. We're family because we have to be, because of my brother, but she's good for him and we're both big enough to admit that." She looks guilty. so unbearably guilty, and you don't know what to do. "Nobody talks about it because Titus makes sure everything you see is what my family wants you to see. When Lincoln found us we were at a party. There were drugs..."

You stay quiet but you flash back to Lincoln, holding your coat, telling you that you had no idea the things he'd done for his sister. Telling you he was scared of losing control.

"I'm not judging you --"

" _He never should have been there."_  she insists and it's almost a growl, low enough to make you sit back. "He was there because of  **me.** To protect  **me.** Love made me weak, made me selfish and I acted like me and Costia were the only two people who mattered I told him where we were because I assumed he wouldn't come, that he'd tell my mom we were too much trouble but he still turned up. Because he's Lincoln and he cares so deeply," Lexa waits a few seconds and scoffs, annoyed at herself. "The drugs they were taking I couldn't even name but Lincoln was dragged into it somehow. It was by his own will, he'd never do anything like that I swear. He's only ever told Octavia what really happened but I do know that it took us months to get him back...It took  _Octavia_ months to get him back. That's why she hates me."

She stills and gives you a hopeful look. "I know you think her hate is unjustified but it isn't, Clarke. You're driven to fix everything but this isn't something that can be repaired, this is something I know I must accept alone."

"You're not alone," you argue back gently and your hand moves to rest on hers.

"I'm glad you're here, Clarke."

And God, you're glad too.

"Thank you for trusting me with this, I know how hard that is for you," you say softly and you feel her hand on yours, her fingers lacing with your own. 

She doesn't need to say anything else.

**28.**

You ask your dad on the Friday night what it was about your mom that made him fall so effortlessly in love with her. The idea has been stuck in your head since you left Lexa on that bench in the graveyard, your moms voice calling out to you as a warning and giving you enough time to separate. When she had asked where you were you'd told her you were looking for inspiration for art class, that the graveyard had beautiful memorials for you to sketch and she'd taken it easily enough. You didn't tell her that your hand was still warm from where Lexa had held it and that you heart was full from how much she trusted you with her darker side; you didn't tell her that your week had been made perfect by an emotional fifteen minutes on a Sunday. 

Which is why you ask your dad instead.

"I just knew," he shrugs and you're glad your mom is working late tonight because if there is anything you look forward to more than Sunday's with Lexa it's movie nights with your dad. He's busying himself over making chicken wings for your night in and you're handling the rest but you know his attention is fully on you, even as his lips smack together and he gives a proud hum over his 'famous' sauce. "Why're you asking, baby?"

You shrug and glance away but your dad is one of the only people that can see through you even if his own eyes are closed. "I like the story of how you met."

"She tells it better than I do," he smiles softly and dishes the chicken up and you watch as his face gets masked by the steam for a second. "She fixed up my hand when I got it jammed fixing a jack. She walked into that room and I swear I started bleeding more because my heart sped up like crazy. One look at her and I almost died; I knew she was going to be it for me."

"So gross," you chuckle.

"The romance?"

"The blood," you quip back before you sober up again, your hands against the kitchen counter. "When did you know you were in love with her?"

He smiles that smile he has that's just for your mom; you know you have your own but, when it comes to Abby, he softens and his face relaxes. His eyes brighten. You hope you look like that when you're in love. "From the moment I saw her, kid."

"Dad," you admonish and he laughs in time with your eye roll. "Really. I'm being serious."

He leans down on the counter, his elbows against the hard surface and he levels his eyes that look so much like yours on you. "So am I," he nods solemnly and there's such a serious tone to his words that you feel a heat grow in your chest. "I saw her and before she'd even finished checking my wound I'd planned a first date, a wedding, and I'd named our first child. I can't explain it, Clarke, but I just knew."

You sigh because you were hoping for more than that. How is he supposed to help your confusion when he's so confident in knowing immediately?

"What's this about, kid?"

"Nothing," you shake your head and your brows furrow in an attempt to distract him. "Come on, old man. Show me why Star Trek is superior to Star Wars."

He doesn't take the bait and you squirm under his loving gaze.

"Do you think you love Finn?"  

"No."

(And, wow, you should have seen it coming with how quickly you moved to deny that question.)

He looks at you and seems to think about what he's saying. For a second your struck with the way Lexa does the same thing, how she contemplates and plans out a situation before she gives her dignified replies. "Is it someone else?" You must look terrified because he only takes a second before he's covering his hand with yours. "Clarke, is this about that Woods girl?"

And you're deafened by the alarms in your mind. You can't think. You can't breathe. And the whole time he sits and stares kindly at you, knowingly, lovingly. He's patient and you're panicking.  You rip your hand from his and make a move to leave the kitchen but he's quicker than you and his large hand wraps around your bicep. His hold is so soft that you know you could shake out of it because you know full well that he would never, ever hurt you but you stand still, save for the shaking in your muscles. 

"Baby, talk to me."

You choke on your words, your head shaking quickly and your voice is wet when you shudder out a pleading, "Dad."

"Hey," he says firmly and before you know it you're wrapped in his arms, the familiar smell of his oiled shirt washing over you and you grip at the denim in your shaking fingers. "Hey, I'm here Clarke. I'm here. Don't worry, okay? Dad's here."

You calm yourself to his soothing voice.

\--

When you wake on Saturday and your mom is in the kitchen he just smiles at you and acts like Friday night never happened.

You've never felt quite as loved as you have right then.

\--

"I think I'm going to break up with Finn."

You hadn't been expecting to say that and when Lexa pauses in her writing, her pen stilling just above her cursive writing, you know she wasn't expecting you to say that either. She lets the silence settle around you in the library and you take the moment to figure out how you feel about what you've just said. In the distance you can hear the soft squeak on the book trolley that Mrs. Kane is wheeling around and, above you in the children's section, you can hear the soft voice of the bakers wife reading her son a story. There's no movement for a few seconds from Lexa until you let out a quiet 'Oh' at your own words and she lowers her pen silently, shifting once in her chair to look at you and when you turn your own eyes to her your heart pounds once at what you see.

Beneath the concern and the confusion you see hope.

"Okay," she whispers slowly and you wonder if she's so quiet because you're in the library or because she's as breathless as you at the admission. "Why?" 

"I don't love him," you reply confidently and it's not a lie. You negate to include that all your thoughts have been her in one confusing blur which led to your decision but you figure she doesn't need to know that. Not yet. "I can't keep lying to him and acting like we're happy when we're not. He's a good guy, he has a beautiful heart, but I'm dragging him down a road and it's not where he deserves to be led."

She nods at you softly, her lower lip moving beneath her teeth briefly. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know what I am," you laugh and the fact you've managed to say  _that much_ is a relief. "That's why I'm doing this. I don't know who, or what, I am and I need to figure that out before I let someone else fall into my world."

Lexa gives you a sweet smile that you feel in your stomach and you shy away a little, looking down at your own calculus work and she turns back to her history essay. You're sure you're not the only one who feels a shift between the two of you but, to her credit, Lexa doesn't do or say anything about it. She's giving you time, you realise. She's letting you work everything out by yourself and she's giving you as much of her support as she can. 

"Lexa?" You hush and she looks at you gently, her eyes softer than you've ever seen them. "Why do you let everyone in this town think so badly of you?"

"I don't," she argues back and her eyes glance away from you briefly when you snort at her. Her eyes find you after a few seconds and she's smirking a little at being caught in her lie; she concedes with a smile. "Not everyone. Not you."

You grip your pen a little tighter and if you move your chair closer to hers once she looks back to her work, you'll never tell a soul. 

**29.**

It was bound to happen eventually but you're still surprised when Bellamy catches you walking towards your spot on the nature trail. He has long basketball shorts on and a tight green underarmour shirt that's stained with the sweat of his obvious training. His hair is messy, freckles prominent in the early spring light and he smiles at you like he's genuinely happy to see you. It's weird, you think as he approaches like a large puppy, that you associate Sunday's so much with Lexa that you have kind of forgot other people exist in this town. You're meeting her a little later than usual; her friend Luna had invited her out for coffee and you had to help your mom clean the garage after church which had depleted your time with her more than you wanted to. You're not sure who Luna is but Lexa had sounded excited about meeting up with her and how could you refuse her? 

"Hey Princess," he greets and you narrow your eyes at him. Finn had, once, called it you at school and it had kind of taken off more than it ever should have done. The nickname annoys you a little but you brush it off when Bellamy leans in to give you a quick hug in greeting, his smile almost wider than his face. "What are you doing this far out of town?" 

There's a little sweat dripping down his temples and his hair is damp with it but you can still acknowledge his handsome appearance. Whoever the girl in that he's with right now, she's lucky. Bellamy, for all of his faults, is a nice guy and while you're anxious to get away from him it's not because you don't like spending time with the guy. It's because you know your Sunday is wasting into nothing. 

"I needed a walk, my mom is driving me crazy," you say because it isn't a lie. She keeps talking about Finn and bringing him over to meet everyone, talking about how Clarke needs to smile more from her eyes and not her lips, talking about colleges and internships and doctorates. You kind of want her to keep talking about Wells because the guilt of her talking about Finn is a little too much. Bellamy nods like he understands and you smile because you know he does; your mom isn't subtle in her love for Bellamy and what could blossom between the two of you. 

"Want some company? I don't have anywhere to be until this evening," he suggests and his deep voice sends a shiver down your back, the soothing sound almost enough to get you to agree. But Sunday is for Lexa and there is nothing that will stop you from spending time with her. You know your friends wish you'd hang out with them more at the weekend--well, Bellamy, Raven and Wells have said that--and you're sure they're getting tired of the excuses, but you can't leave her. There's too much pulling you towards her. 

You shake your head and he shrugs, not pushing the issue. "I think I need to clear my head a little," you tell him and you like that he accepts your words easily. Bellamy lives by his words of 'do whatever the hell we want' and you kind of admire that; he doesn't question people when they want to be alone, he doesn't prod or poke and he's not the guy you go to for advice but he's dependable and you like that. 

"Alright Griffin," he salutes and edges past you to walk back towards the town. "But me and Murphy are having a poker night tonight if you want to join us? Raven will be there with Wick and I'm sure Lincoln and Octavia wouldn't mind you being around."

"Sounds too much like a triple date to me," you joke and he laughs loudly, walking backwards as his eyes stay on you and he puts his arms out to the side in a shrug. "When are you going to admit you and Murphy are in love?"

"When this town is ready for the beauty of a gay relationship," he calls back in jest but it knocks the wind out of your chest. "Text me, Griff." Bellamy winks at you before turning on his heels and starting a slow jog back into town. 

You blink twice before you manage to move your feet.

What the fuck?

\--

Lexa isn't there when you arrive at the river so you sit down and pull your bag off of your back, opening the sketchbook to the page you're trying to perfect and you bring your charcoal to the paper. There are various images pressed into the sketchbooks memory; Lincoln's eyes, Raven's necklace, Octavia's hands. Small, tender images that your artistic side was desperate to catch and perfect. There's small images of ripples of water, of the soft flowers that grow on the side, and of long limbs and heart-shattering smiles. You'd love to really draw Lexa, you muse as you shadow her jaw, but you're not sure you're talented enough to do her justice. The picture you're working on is based off of one of the Polaroid's you took when she showed you the town from the highest peak; she's standing with her back to you, her head tilted to the right a little and her eyes are closed. You know she's relaxing herself before she begins her yoga routine but the image was too beautiful to not capture and you hope deeply that you're conveying exactly what you saw onto the paper in front of you.

"Is that me?" 

You turn in time to see her approach and you can't help but smile at the visual. She's pretty in the Spring, you think. She's all Earth coloured skinny jeans and pale vest shits that contrast against her skin and her eyes and her hair. She's steady in her footing as she walks down and you note the brown boots she's opted to wear and something tells you she didn't dress like this with practicality in mind, and that thought makes you flush. 

She sits next to you and gestures at the pictures you're drawing and you remember you've forgotten to answer her so you nod instead, loosening your grip on the book so that she can take it from your hands and you twitch nervously as she scans her eyes over the page. She looks at you for permission to flick through your drawing and you nod again with a soft shrug before you lean closer to her, your shoulder brushing against hers as she sits quietly and studies your drawings. You're not ashamed of them; you've known you've been able to draw from a young age and you're pretty sure Octavia has seen your sketch of Lincoln's eyes in art class. 

"It's a study of beauty," you tell her finally and she hums to let you know that she's heard you but otherwise stays quiet, her fingers hovering over the lines you've made from your own hands. "We're supposed to capture the essence of a persons beauty. Lincoln's eyes are a story in themselves, Octavia's hands are brave, Raven's necklace gives her strength." You wonder if your explanation is stupid but you remember your dad telling you that art is what you make it, that it's subjective and your idea of beauty is different to someone else's whose is different to another person. 

She fixes you with a look and you wet your lower lip, your heart speeding up at how her eyes have darkened and the muscles in her face are pulled tight. "You chose my back?" 

"No," you deny and turn back to the image that had captured her attention to begin with, your fingers drifting over it reverently. "Yours isn't finished yet. I can't choose just one thing about you."

And maybe, you think, maybe you can be just as brave as Lexa some day. 

\--

You tell her about running into Bellamy as you're walking back into town together and she doesn't sound too shocked but she does laugh when you bring up your theory that he and Murphy are sleeping together. She shakes her head in denial and that makes you pout but she reaches out, in public, and grabs your elbow in amusement and most of your rational thoughts fly out of your head. 

"John isn't gay," she tells you firmly and it takes you a few seconds to figure out that she means Murphy. And then it takes you a few more seconds to realise she'd called him  _John._ You're beginning to wonder if you fell down a rabbit hole at one point because your day is getting really weird.

"How do you know for sure?"

She smiles at you again and you like the fact you're losing count of how many times she's smiled at you. You like that it's natural for her now. "He's dating Emori," she explains softly and you're about to protest before you realise you're not sure who she's talking about. You want to feel guilty that you don't know much about your friends but, you argue, they're not exactly the most open of people. "She goes to my school. He's nice."

" _Murphy?_ We're talking about the same guy, right? Bellamy's friend," you jest and she stops gripping your arm and instead links hers through yours. Part of you is glad she's on your right side because you're sure your heart is beating louder than it should. "You think he's nice?"

"He's very smart," she shrugs and you watch her; there's still so much you don't know about her. "Just in a quiet way."

You nod because you can't do much else; Murphy is Bellamy's friend and you know as much about him as you know about Lincoln. From what you can tell he has a degree in sarcasm and likes putting his feet on tables but Finn doesn't particularly like him, which means you spend your lunches with him instead. Guilt fills you at the fact you still haven't called things off with him yet but you're scared he'll ask questions why, and you don't know if you can answer them without feeling like you're plunging a knife into his chest. 

"How was lunch with Luna?"

"Oh, it was lovely," Lexa replies and there isn't a sting of jealousy when you hear her say it, not like with Costia. Maybe it's because your arm is attached to hers, or because you're starting to figure yourself out, but you like this feeling far more than what you've felt before. "She's trying to get me to join the fencing team because she has this idealistic notion that she can beat me. I told her I'd consider it."

You eye her suspiciously. "Your school has  _fencing_ as a sport?"

"That's what you're choosing to focus on?"

"No I just," you pause and try to imaging Lexa sparring, hands flying fast, body poised. Your eyebrow arches. "Maybe you should try it."

She shrugs and you walk to the typical crossroads, your heart heavy. She's still a mystery and you hope she'll surprise you and walk with you again but you know not to ask in case it scares her away. "Until next Sunday," she murmurs and pulls her arm from yours but you feel yourself frown and you reach out, your fingers wrapping around her forearm as you stop her from leaving. 

"Can we not meet during the week instead?"

You're not sure why you say it but it's out there now and Lexa is looking at you in that way that says she doesn't want to disappoint you but she has to. 

"I don't know how wise that would be, Clarke. What would your mother think?"

"I don't really care," you shrug and she winces at how easily you dismiss her words. You wonder if she's heard them before; if that was what Costia had said before she'd kissed her and Lexa's world had crumbled. "We can't keep doing this. You're my friend, Lexa. I'm proud to be your friend and I don't care what some people in the town might think."

She looks torn and you hate yourself a little for hurting her but Sunday's are slowing becoming too little and you think she knows that too. "You say that now but you don't understand the hatred people have," she whispers and shakes her head gently. "I won't let you feel that."

"Lexa," you grit your teeth and you want to cry. She's so stubborn, so thick-headed, and you wonder how she can even see past all of the walls she's ever built. "What is this really about? Why can't you let yourself be happy?"

"Because people in power are brought down quicker from happiness than they are from loneliness," she quotes and it's so orchestrated that you're sure this is something that has been drilled into her from birth. The sky has started to darken a little but there is a soft blue hue around the two of you and you watch her, all pale skin and dark curls and you don't deny the fact you want to kiss her. "If I'm ever to be a leader --"

"Do you even want to be Mayor? Do you even want to go into politics?" She looks down at that and you know you've got her there. But you don't know how to deal with it. "Lexa, life should be more about making other people happy. It should be about more than surviving each and every day. Don't you think everyone deserves more than that? Than just waking up and being who they tell you to be?"

"Maybe we do."

**30.**

Unfortunately Finn seems to pick up on your mood a lot quicker than you hoped he would have and everything comes spiraling down on a Thursday night. You don't want to hurt him at all but when he appears at your door with a sad expression and slumped shoulders you know it's the beginning of the end, and it's all because you were too scared to do it yourself. He cries when he asks if it was him, if he pushed her too hard, and you shake your head because it really isn't his fault. You can't help who you fall in love with and in another life you're sure that could be Finn, but in this one it isn't. 

He leaves with a promise to be friends and you seal it with a hug before you go into your house and push past your parents into your room. You're not sad it's over, you're sad that you've hurt someone special. 

 **Clarke Griffin:  
** I broke up with Finn.

 **Lexa Woods:**  
I'm so sorry.  
I wish I could be there for   
you right now.

 **Clarke Griffin:**  
This is enough.  
For now.

\--

Subsequently you find yourself at your most popular now that you're single and you kind of want to laugh at the irony. Raven pulls you into a side hug and offers you a sip of her famous "Rocket Fuel", on a party Friday night and Octavia gives you some love advice and declares herself all-knowing since she's the only one in a lasting relationship. You smile and, for the most part, take it on the chin because you know your friends are just trying to help. They cheer louder, play bass-filled music and stomp their feet on the ground when they dance in efforts to help and distract you enough to get over your break-up. You can't help but smile at them for trying and it doesn't take long before you shouting and singing and stamping too. 

In the midst of the joy you find yourself flung towards Murphy who receives you with a low grunt, his hands moving to your elbows quickly to steady you but you're sure he'll deny ever doing it if questioned. You look at him with bright eyes, your mouth a little loopy with the alcohol, and you think he laughs quietly in his chest but his face seems as impassive as it always does. 

"Do you know Lexa Woods?" You ask and he narrows his gaze at you but you hold firm, the hot drink in your stomach giving you a little more courage than you're used to. "She says that you do."

He shrugs at her once, "I guess. She goes to school with someone I know."

"Emori," you nod and he flinches a little in defense before he seems to realise you're less of a threat than he could really expect. "Are you friends with her?"

"Emori?"

"Lexa."

"Oh," he sniffs and glances around the room. You're not sure why but you feel a protective surge coil in your chest and you don't know if you want to yell at him for being embarrassed about Lexa or hesitating when it comes to talking about her. "How do you know her?"

"Church."

He lets go of your elbows to scratch at the back of his neck and he gives you a dour look. "She's a good kid," he says and it makes you laugh a little because that's something your dad would say. "Kinda broody, rough around the edges but you can't blame her. A whole town turned their back on her 'cause she wanted to be honest with herself. It was kinda lame."

Your eyes are wide as you look at him in awe because Murphy seems to know a lot about Lexa and you want to know more. 

"Whatever, the sooner she's out of this town the better for her. She's going to go far, Emori says she's smart as hell and her family is crazy connected. As soon as she graduates she's probably going to bust out," he continues and that floaty, happy feeling you had before begins to leave. "Why?" 

You don't answer and you let Octavia pull you away to teach you a dance move with Raven. 

\--

She texts you on Sunday morning to meet you outside of church instead of going to one of your locations and you feel a swarm of nerves start up in your gut. You wonder if she's finally hearing what you've been saying; that you're not ashamed of her, that you want people to know your friends, that you'll go down fighting if it ever comes to that. You're on her side. When your mom asks you to get into the car you tell her that you're meeting Raven for some girl time because you're still a little sad about Finn and you feel nauseous when she pouts understandingly, giving you a gentle kiss on your temple. Your father stands to the side a little and you avoid his eyes because you still can't lie to him, especially now you think he knows. 

Your mom wanders off to talk to some friends and you walk in the opposite direction when Lexa texts you that she's a little way down the road in her car.

You don't miss the way your dad watches you knowingly. 

\--

"I have to do a few errands for my mom," Lexa explains when you get into the car and you shrug at her, simply happy to be in her company. The week has been long after your break up and Murphy's words. You're not sure why those ones particularly are staying with you, especially since Lexa has said more than once that her future lies in Polis. You think he's right though, Lexa deserves more than leading a town of people who are too stuck in their ways to accept anything new. 

"Where are we going?"

"It's a little town about an hour outside of here," she says softly, like she's only just realised she's dragged you along on an adventure you hadn't really agreed to. "Unless you'd like me to take you home instead?"

You smile and reach across, your fingers dancing along the tiny bones in her wrist and she twists her had just enough that you let your fingers move down and lace with hers. "Just drive, Lexa."

\--

Lexa seems to come alive when she isn't in the confines of Polis and beneath a scope of people looking at her and it makes your heart hurt just looking at her. She's joyous in a way you've not seen in the six months that you've known her, she smiles with her teeth and the skin around her eyes crinkle and you can do nothing but follow her around and try and imprint the entire thing to memory. You're at a cute little market that took you forty minutes to get to and Lexa spends most of her time at the stalls looking over tiny items, her attention completely on the vendor and she seems to absorb as much information as she can in the short amount of time she has. You watch as she smells flowers, as she takes little tastes of cakes and fruits and you wonder where  _this_ Lexa is when you're back home. 

You wonder who she is when you're not around.

"Clarke, you have got to taste this apple cider," she says through a hum and you're powerless to stop yourself, your feet already moving towards her despite your mind telling you to just stay back and take her in. "It's wonderful."

She brings her cup to your lips and you ignore the fact that she's sharing it with you rather than getting you your own. It shouldn't be a big deal really so you work at keeping calm, at sipping the sweet-sour liquid and tasting what Lexa can taste rather than focusing on her lip-gloss stain at the rim. It is lovely and you shudder a little at the tart apples before a caramel sweetness coats your tongue and your eyes light up which only serves to make Lexa laugh softly. 

"We'll take one bottle," she says resolutely and pulls out her money to pay. She takes her item and you move on but you can't help but notice how she lingers closer to you outside of Polis and the town that watches her every move. You like this version of Lexa; this relaxed version that wear her hair down and doesn't stand quietly while other people tell her what's best for her. 

"Why are we even here?" You finally ask and she shrugs, blinking once to hide her guilt and you can't help but smile. "You don't have any errands to run for your mom, do you?"

She blushes attractively before she shakes her head. 

"Honestly, I was getting tired of the same three places. I thought it'd be nice to spend some time together elsewhere," she admits and you glow at her words because it means she's thought about this, about you. "Is that okay?"

You nod at her and she bites her lip when you say, "I'd follow you anywhere, Lex."

\--

On the way home you go to an fast food place and she buys a burger bigger than her face that you're pretty sure she won't finish. When she does all you can do is stare in disbelief and when she smirks, like she knew you thought she couldn't do it, a warmth flares in your stomach. This is what you'd been waiting months for; this free, easy, gentle type of friendship that doesn't include either of you looking over your shoulder or waiting for the other shoe to drop. This laughter and cheesy music pumping out of her speakers and mustard on her chin; it's all of these things and you have to breathe deeply to assure yourself that it's real, that you're getting the chance. 

As with most things with Lexa is all ends too soon and you seen the sign  _"Welcome to Polis!"_ in front of the car long before you want to see it. A cold detachment settles in on you because you've just spent the last few hours laughing and joking and knowing what Lexa feels like when she's free of her constraints and you don't want to go back to it, you don't want to go another week without her. The texts are only fulfilling a small space in you and you're ready to face why or, at least, you hope you are.

"Do you have to go home?" Lexa looks at you when you speak and you can already see the mask slipping back down, you can see how she grips her steering wheel so that she doesn't hold your hand like she had done on your way out of town, you can see her stiff shoulders setting back into place. And it kills you. "We could go and spend a little time by the river."

"Won't your mom be wondering where you are?"

You smirk a little and lean your head against the window. "Do you ever talk about anything other than what people think of us?" 

She lightens a little at that and pulls into the church car park once more, parking up near the entrance so that it is easier for her to leave and you to walk away unnoticed. "I'm sorry I couldn't drive you home," she apologizes and you shake your head, lifting your hand to stop her. 

"It's fine, I understand," you say patiently because that's all you can say to her now. You turn to look at her only to find she's already staring at you and you let your lips tilt up a little in a smile, not particularly ready for your afternoon with her to end but knowing her worries will only grow the longer that you stay in the car with her. "I wish I could make you see the good in things though. You're an amazing person, Lexa. Let the world see that."

She blinks slowly, her mouth parting, and you don't think you've ever seen her lost for words before. "The more time we spend together, the less reasons I have to want to keep hiding this," she says before she quickly clears her throat, her eyes widening. "Our friendship. Hiding our friendship is what I wanted--Is what I meant to say." She looks troubled again and you reach out, your hand grazing against her thigh. 

"I can handle what my friends will say. There's a respect for you there that I don't think you believe you have but I don't think their reaction will be quite as angry as you're making in your head."

Lexa shrugs at you but makes no move to make you stop touching her. "Maybe not but I know your mom will care," she replies and her voice is low though it is just the two of you in the car. "After Costia my mom is wary of anyone who comes into my life and I have a feeling that if they were to ever meet as more than patrons of the church then I doubt they'd see eye to eye." 

"No, you're probably right," you laugh but that doesn't stop you leaning closer to her. "I hate that you do this to yourself though. You've made me smile more in one afternoon than the whole time I've been with my friends this week." 

"You deserve to smile more," Lexa whispers and you close your eyes when you see her hand raise, her fingertips barely running across your cheek and jawline. She stops herself and you swallow thickly, taking your chance, and you bring your hand up to keep her fingers against your skin. "Clarke."

"I know you're scared and you think that happiness is an illusion, that love is weakness and serves no purpose, but I want to prove you wrong," you tell her and you're not sure where you're going with this but when you open your eyes she's looking at you with wonder and you don't want that to stop. "Hiding from your feelings isn't what makes you brave, Lexa. Facing them is."

Her lip shakes just slightly and you lean closer, the urge to capture it and make it stop almost overwhelming you. "Costia..."

"Will always be important," you nod, making sure to catch her eyes when you say it to let her know you're being honest. "But you're important too. Don't let others dictate how you feel."

\--

It only takes a second and her lips are on yours in the softest kiss you think you've ever felt. She's quietly desperate in her push and pull, her hand that you're still holding beneath your own opens and flattens against your jawline. There's a soft noise as you kiss her back, almost a whine, and you gasp against her mouth at how  _good_ the whole thing feels.

And it's exactly what you've been waiting for.

\--

Hours later, when you lay in bed, you bring a hand to your lips and taste apples and caramel and lipgloss all at once.

**31.**

When you actually let yourself think about what happened between you and Lexa, you don't freak out as much as you thought you would. Liking girls is one thing, you think, but acting on those feelings is quite another. After the kiss Lexa had gently moved away and you had laughed at how she held her breath like if she made any movement at all, everything would disappear. You knew that feeling though, and you know it now, because when you really break it down this whole thing is dangerous. Your mother is going to kill you and you know that and even if your dad is supportive you know it's going to be hard seeing Lexa and finding acceptance and who knew one kiss could open so many doors?

You sort of wish you had felt this with Finn. At least that would have been easier. 

\--

She's pacing when you get to the river but you're more surprised she's here to begin with. You watch from the treeline as she paces back and forth, her hands moving almost as rapidly as her mouth and you feel your expression grow soft. There's something mysterious about Lexa, you're sure of that, but you like that you could have predicted this reaction days ago. In the week between your kiss you haven't heard much from her save the occasional text and you had sort of doubted she'd stick to your ritual, but you knew she'd be an anxious mess either way and you're kind of proud that you could work that out so well. 

"If you're trying to write a speech in your head about why that kiss was wrong then I'm going to let you know now that that will probably hurt my feelings," you say as you step off of the trail and closer to where she's making a little trench for herself next to the river. "And don't get me started on what you'll do to my ego."

Lexa sighs quietly before shoving her hands into her pockets, her eyes anywhere but on you. "You don't think it was a mistake?"

"No," you reply honestly and take a step towards her. "You felt me kissing you back right, or do we have to revisit the whole ego thing again?"

"I felt it," she nods and there's a soft pink colour tinting the tips of her ears that you want to press your lips against. "I'm just confused. You like girls?"

You shrug. "Right now I like  **a** girl. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she breathes out. "That's okay."

The rock to your left seems to be your unspoken place to sit together and you make a move towards it before Lexa stops you, dashing closer and placing a hand against your stomach to stop you walking away. It's endearing, especially with how her brow furrows in confusion and need and a little stress. You want to brush it away but you know this is already scary enough; you don't want to push either of you, this is new for you both. 

"I don't want to do something that I'll regret," she murmurs and you lean closer to hear her, your own hands moving to her hips in a tentative hold. You've never held a girl like this before and you've only been intimate with one other person before Lexa barreled into your life and turned everything upside down; you like how it feels though, how natural you stand together. "I don't want to be alone again, Clarke. Which I understands sounds pa --"

"Don't finish that sentence and don't apologise for how you feel," you tell her sternly, leveling your gaze upon her own worried frown. "Lexa I'll support anything that you do. I promise."

She sighs, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"Your friends. Your parents. The people in this town are unforgiving," she stutters and you shake your head because you've heard this for months and months and  _months._ It's tiring now. You're tired. "Clarke..."

"Let us be the only people that matter right now," you tell her before you lean in and kiss her again. 

\--

When you kiss Lexa you feel something come alive inside of you; something claws at your chest, your heart, in your throat and it causes a desperation inside of you where the only source of relief is to keep your lips against hers. She's just as passionate in her response and she kisses you like it's the last thing she'll ever get to do, like your lips are her only chance at happiness and she's chasing them down between soft moans and gasps of air. 

Lexa kisses like she knows what she wants and it makes your knees wobble and your hands bold simultaneously. She evokes a reaction out of you that even the best story-tellers couldn't word. 

Your hands move from her hips, where they had been placed tentatively only moments before, up her sides, her back, her shoulders and you dig them into the loose waves of her hair. She softens against you and as her body presses against yours you feel each and every one of her muscles relax, like she's been waiting for this too, like she's finally at peace with whatever it was building between you over the last six months. 

"We can't do this," she hums but she makes no move to pull away from where she's pressed up against you and you can feel each beat of your heart in time with your own. "I'll ruin us."

"I won't let you."

She still looks nervous and you take that as a cue to step away from her, to give her that space she so clearly needs and she lets out a shaky breath at your movement. You know it's fast, you're so completely aware of that, but you're also aware you knew Finn a lot less shorter than you've known Lexa and nobody blinked at that. If anything they supported it. 

"Whatever happens," she begs and it gets your attention. "Whatever happens between us, promise me we'll always have Sunday."

"Lexa --"

"Promise," she whimpers and you're torn between dragging her into your arms protectively and storming down into your little town of Polis and punching every single person that has made her feel like this. "I can't lose Sunday with you."

"You won't," you tell her and you lean up to press a kiss against her cheek. "Sunday will always be yours."

\--

When you get home, later that afternoon, you find yourself smiling at nothing. Because Lexa might still be scared and you haven't exactly spoken about what this means but you know it feels good and, for now at least, that's enough.

"Clarke," you hear and you turn to see your dad waiting for you in the kitchen. "Can we talk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions or I've left areas unanswered come find me at brokendevilwrites.tumblr.com


	3. April - May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, a few things.
> 
> A) Ao3 deleted the last two weeks of this chapter and I tried to recover it but I was unable to. I have left it in the most natural place but I will pick up the end of May in Chapter 4, I promise.  
> B) This is a little shorter than the other chapters because I needed to get this out quickly as I am going into the 'Holiday Season' at work which means I will not be around much over the next month/month and a half.  
> C) I just want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all the comments. You're all wonderful.
> 
> This chapter is very Clarke/Friends/Parents heavy. I've mixed it with Clexa fluff to make up for it but her coming out/figuring out who she is is essential to her narrative. This is her story, from her view, but I've broken it up for a little bit of a break from the angst.
> 
> There is still underlying homophobia, so please be aware of that, but for this chapter I have settled it down a lot. 
> 
> I hope you like it. I'm not sure how I feel about this right now, but hopefully you enjoy it.
> 
> As always, if you have any questions, find me on my tumblr: brokendevilwrites

**APRIL**

**32.**

You think that spring might be your favourite month.

The artist in you likes every season; the light of winter, the heat of summer, the colours in autumn but there's a freshness in spring that has always filled your lungs and your heart and your mind with a clean joy. Your father sometimes comments, with a wry smile, that you always announce that whichever season you're in at the time is your favourite and you smile secretly to yourself at the sound of his deep voice filling your thoughts. Jake Griffin is simply a gift to this world, you think, and that has become more apparent over the last few days for you. He's kind and soft and has rough hands that protect and hold you like you're the most precious thing in the world, like he couldn't have ever imagine holding something so important in his wildest dreams.

While Lexa makes you feel heard and special and important your father makes you feel like a hero and despite how scary things seem to you you can't help but be blessed with what those two provide for you. 

A voice interrupts your thoughts and you look through the steam of your coffee to look at Lexa; her eyes are alight with amusement and questions and you're thankful for the large windows in the backroom of the diner for casting such a attractive light over her eyes and cheekbones. Full lips tease into the shape of a smile when she asks you, "Clarke, what are you thinking about?" and you bite your lip to hold back any urges you feel for her and those lips. 

"My dad," you answer easily before you decide to bite the proverbial bullet and simply be honest with her. You haven't kissed again since a week ago at the side of your little river but that doesn't mean that the taste of her, the memory of her, still isn't as fresh as it had been when you'd pulled back that first time. "And you." 

"An interesting combination," she snickers and you rolls your eyes at her, watching as she curls her long fingers around the fruit tea she's taken to drinking the past few weeks and you wonder, briefly, if you'll prefer the taste of it when you lick it from the seam of her lips. "I have to admit though as nice as it is to hear that I'm on your mind, is everything okay with you and your father?" 

She's so genuinely interested that you feel your heart stutter over her words but you offer her a calm smile as she looks at you. You know that you've thought it before but it hits you again, as the green of her eyes glint, as the slant of her jaw tightens, you've never had someone look at you like Lexa does. Like every word you're going to say is going to just as important as the last. 

"Everything is perfect," you tell her and she settles at that. Something warms inside of you that she simply believed your words without prompt, that she's content in believing you're telling her the truth and you can't stop yourself from reaching under the table and placing your hand on her knee. She startles a little but then her cheeks colour in the prettiest pink you've ever seen and she drops her own hand to lay on top of yours, your fingers tickling the sides of each other before intertwining. "I told him that I think I like girls." 

Lexa freezes for a second but her eyes fill with pride something that you can hear in her voice when she says, "Clarke, did you really? I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," you laugh and you can't believe how it feels to say that. Liking girls had never crossed your mind as prominently as it has in recent months and you know you have it easier than other people, that you came to the realization slowly and naturally and that it scares you less than it may for others. But you're proud of yourself too. "He told me that he loves me." 

"Of course he does," Lexa smiles and you feel her hold your hand tighter. "How do you feel?" 

You smile because you feel how you always feel when she's around. "Brave."

\--

Gustus is bustling around in the diner and the sun in the sky has started to tint the clouds with a pink that reminds you of Lexa's blush. You know there is a message on your phone from your mother, the reason you're even thinking about leaving Lexa to begin with, but all you can focus on is the way that Lexa moves around the small space as she begins to clear away the items you've used. There are still a few crumbs from a blueberry muffin that had changed your life and you set about brushing it from the table into your hand, if for no other reason that to waste time and spend a little longer with the girl that has completely taken your attention. 

"Are you ladies all finished up in here?" Lexa looks up to see Gustus practically blocking the doorway and you brush the crumbs into the trashcan unable to meet his gaze. You're still not sure what he thinks about you but he doesn't glare when you walk into the back with Lexa anymore and there hasn't been anymore vaguely threatening conversations in which you're worried you're life is in danger if you so much as make Lexa's lip quiver. Lexa says something but you focus on standing straight, on making sure your eyes don't stray to the distracting curves of Lexa's body, on being the girl that Gustus can trust to befriend his daughter. You know you want more, you know she wants more in the way she's kissed you, but you don't want to push things too quickly. "Okay. Clarke, are you staying for dinner?"

You can't mask the shock on your face and you're sure Lexa looks confused too but you shake your head anyway and briefly wave your hand towards the exit. "No, my dad is expecting me home. But thank you" 

"That's fine," he replies in a gruff way and you hold your breath as he looks at you for a second longer. "Lexa, tell Lincoln to be home for six." 

"Okay," she nods and you feel her step a little closer to you. The whole scene is a little too domestic and your heart is racing but finally,  _finally,_ you feel like you belong in the backroom of this diner with the girl the whole town had once hurt. "Should I call Anya too or is she at the house?"

"Aden is sick so she stayed with him today," he explains and it hits you that despite appearing at church together Lexa's family aren't as connected as Clarke has been led to believe. They aren't scary and 'too close' like Jasper had once whispered, they weren't some mob like family that hung around each other and never let new people in like Wells had suggested.

They were just a simple family. 

And you were privy to witness some of the mundane, boring conversations that they shared. 

For the first time you feel included and you wonder if Lexa spoke to her dad about girls like you spoke to yours.

\--

You're standing at the back exit of the diner, the door opening to an empty alleyway, when she opens her mouth and says something that makes your heart race again. "I want you to know that I've wanted to kiss you all day." 

"Why haven't you?" She bites her lip and you can see the conversation that she's having with herself in her mind. You can see the confusion of what you are, of where you stand, and you ease her mind a little by taking a step closer and wrapping your fingers around the forearm that she has crossed over her stomach. "I'd really like it if you kissed me, Lexa." 

She gasps and the sound rings in your ears.

When she kisses you in the doorway of the diner, in the middle of a homophobic town, you see bright whites and pale yellows. You see burnt oranges and shimmering blues.

She's a mix of all of your favourite seasons and you can't wait to taste her smile in each one.

 

**33.**

Just before Easter your mom announces that she is going to some medical conference in Seattle the following week. You make a joke about Grey's Anatomy that seems to go largely ignored by her but she humors you with a small smile so you take it as a win for now; the truth is you're excited,  _too excited,_ about the fact that you'll have the house to yourself on a Sunday. Your dad works until early evening, sometimes on his own personal projects, and while your mom worked weekends too her schedule was a lot less predictable. She's already made it clear that she isn't a fan of Lexa and you're sure her reaction to Lexa sitting in your kitchen wouldn't go down as well as it would do if your father was the one to walk in early. 

You can't contain your excitement and you already have your phone out before you've even reached your room, praying to God that Lexa's family don't have a huge thing planned after church. Briefly you think you should have asked her before seven at night on a Friday but you were simply willing to spend time with her, like you did every week, and she hadn't mentioned anything. But now -- now things were different. 

You want her to come to your home. You want to spend time with her as Lexa, like you had at that tiny little market when she shared her cider with you and laughed like a teenager. And you have a full week to convince her it's a good idea.

\--

 **Clarke Griffin:  
** What are you doing next Sunday?

 **Lexa Woods:**  
Spending time with you, I'd hope. 

 **Lexa Woods:  
** And I can't wait.

 **Clarke Griffin:  
** I meant with your family. 

 **Clarke Griffin:  
** I can't wait either.

\--

You're glad that she can't see you as you giggle into your bed sheets. The crumpled white fabric bunches around your knees as you drive your face into the soft comfort and you wonder how you never saw this before. With Finn you remember enjoying the attention that the school lavished upon the two of you, you remember smiling when his texts would light up your phone, but nothing seemed comparable to this emotion that Lexa evokes from you. It's powerful, it makes you feel stronger, and you sigh against your knees as you look at your phone and think about what to say. You're aware you're a cliché.

You're a girl hiding giggles in her bedroom

You're a girl who blushes while talking to her crush.

You're a girl unsure what to say.

You're into someone who likes you back and you can't explain the elation of what that actually feels like. That the person you like actually  _likes you back._

If you had a sibling you know they'd tease you about it but you don't. Instead you have a father who pokes his head into your room and melts under the heat of your smile, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "I assume from that goofy look on your face that you're texting Lexa right now?"

"There's no look on my face," you protest but your cheeks hurt from smiling and your fingers ache from where they clutch your phone tightly. "But I am, yeah." 

He nods and steps inside your room to shut the door. "How are you holding up, kid?" Your dad asks and sometimes you wonder what deed you did in a past life that meant that you have a father as supportive as Jake Griffin in this one. You want to tell him that you're fine but you know you have a long way to go before everything is  _'fine'_ and you shrug at him once.

"I'm okay," you say and he pauses a little as his eyes take in the pictures on your wall. They narrow slightly as they catch an image you'd captured of Lexa on the Polaroid she bought you for Christmas but he seems to realise that Lexa is still a new subject for you and he looks away, not wanting to push you too much in a house your mother could hear any conversation. "I'm still a little confused about everything but I'm okay."

"Confused about liking girls?"

"No," you say and you shock yourself at how adamant you are about it. Sure it's only been one girl, you like  _Lexa,_ and you know you don't want to rush to label yourself but you're not willing to deny that side of you either. "Just...everything. I told Lexa that we'd spoken about it, that you said you loved me still, and she said she was proud of me." 

Jake smiles and sits in the little white chair next to your bed, "I'm proud of you too."

"I know, and so am I. I just don't understand how she can be so positive when the people surrounding her have given her nothing but snide comments and mean looks," you confess, your heart aching a little for the girl you couldn't wait to see. "She says she's proud of me but she won't let herself be proud of who she is." 

Your father looks sad for a few moments and you don't know who it's for. He's the kindest, sweetest man on Earth and you know he wishes, more than anything, that this could be easier for you. 

"You're strong, kid," he finally says and you rest your temple on your knees as you look at him. His eyes are bright and you're reminded of how much you look like him. You wonder if people feel as comforted by your eyes and you do by his. "And I trust you. I trust that any decision you make will always be good for you. Whatever happens with you and this girl Lexa, I'm going to support you both and I'm going to be here for you. Do you understand?" 

"Yes," you whisper, your heart racing a little faster. You can hear the unspoken words of how he'll look after Lexa too, how he'll protect both of you because he trusts your judgement in the people you invite into your life. He trusts that you know exactly who you are and what you're doing. "Dad?" 

He's standing from the chair, ready to leave and not push the subject too much, and he turns at your questioning tone.

"Can Lexa come for dinner on Sunday?"

"Oh, meeting the parents?" He teases and you laugh at him. "How long have you two been dating exactly? This all feels a little fast."

You know he's teasing but you groan anyway, your cheeks aflame with embarrassment. "We're not dating," you argue but then your words die in your throat. You're not official, you know Lexa is too scared yet, but you're not sure how to tell your dad that when you spend time with her you're kissing her perfect lips and pressing your body as close to hers as she'll let you. "We're...This is new. It's all new but I want to --"

"She can stay for dinner if it's okay with her and her parents," your dad cuts you off and you're glad for it. You're not sure why you're so desperate for her to come over, or why it's so important to you, but you smile in relief at how easy it all is for him. "I can give her  _The Talk_ if I'm home early enough."

"Dad!"

\--

It's only when he's gone do you let yourself look back at your phone, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you let Lexa take completely over your thoughts and actions once more.

\--

 **Lexa Woods:**  
Besides church there is nothing  
that we have scheduled. 

 **Lexa Woods:**  
My mom is making a speech in town   
later that day but I don't have to be  
there for it.

 **Lexa Woods:  
** Is there something you'd like to do?

 **Clarke Griffin:**  
I want you to come to my house  
for dinner.

 **Lexa Woods:  
** Clarke.

 **Clarke Griffin:  
** Please, Lexa.  
  
**Clarke Griffin:**  
My mom is away at some conference  
for a few days and it'll just be us.

 **Lexa Woods:  
** And if someone sees?

 **Clarke Griffin:**  
Me seeing you is more important.  
Please.

 **Lexa Woods:**  
I'll think about it, okay? I promise _  
_ that I want to see you too.

\--

You continue texting through the night and, like you knew you would, you see Lexa at church. She has Aden with her and he's clambering on her lap, his fingers grabbing at her jaw and her neck and you never thought you'd be jealous of a toddler before but you sulk throughout the service as Lexa directs her smiles to the little boy who seems to be obsessed with her. You know church isn't the place to be thinking about it but you really wish you could be the person sitting in her lap, touching her jaw, making her smile. 

"We don't have long today," she says regrettably when you catch up with her outside of the church. Your mom is talking to Aurora Blake again and you'd blushed when your dad caught you sneaking around the side of the church with Lexa, but he waved you off and you that store thought away and remind yourself that you should thank him later for his loyalty. You pout a little but she reaches her hand out enough that her fingertips brushing against the bones on your wrist and you sigh because you want her to know you're disappointed. "Anya is taking me, Lincoln and Aden for lunch. I could ask her if you could join us if you'd like."

Family is important to Lexa, you know that, but you can see that she's worried how to explain it to her siblings so you shake your head. "Not today," you say before twisting your hand and holding hers softly. "But sometime soon."

"I'm aware it's weak but I'm going to miss you today," she says after a moment of contemplating and staring at your joined hands. "Sunday's are the only day I ever seem to wait for anymore." 

You smile at that and look down. It isn't like she hasn't said anything like this before, you recall perfectly all of the times she's made your heart freeze, but it feels more important now. "We could see each other during the week too," you tease and her chuckle makes sitting in church completely worth it. "I exist outside of the weekend too."

"I know," she whispers and you lean closer so you can hear her. "I'd like nothing more than to see you more often."

She looks confused and calm all at the same time and you don't know what to do. She's handling this a lot better than you ever thought she would have done but you think the small breaks between seeing one another has helped but she's so different to how she'd been two weeks ago at the lake that you can't help yourself, you move your hand to hold hers and tangle your fingers together before she can get scared or run away. It's more intimate than before and it feels nicer, it makes you feel bolder. 

"Lexa," you murmur because you want her attention and you like the feeling of her name on your tongue. It makes you feel important, like you're the only person in the world who gets to address her like this and she looks at you with eyes that you never thought could have existed on a person before. "Come to my house next week after church. My mom is going away on Friday night and she won't be home until Tuesday."

There's a little noise around you. People are getting into their cars ready to go home and spend Easter with their families and you can hear kids shouting excitedly for chocolate but all you can focus on is Lexa, your heart silent as you wait for her reply. She must see the desperation on your face because she presses her lips together and nods slowly, the sight making you smile widely and she copies you (though hers is a little shaky, a little nervous). 

"I'll let my dad know but I'd love to come over," she says and you glance around once to ensure you're alone. When you see that you are, and that nobody is privy to your little moment, you bring your joined hands to your lips and press a tender kiss against her fingers. "Clarke..." 

"I know," you sigh because you want to kiss her too but, for now, it'll sate you. Until next week. When you're alone. "Text me." 

 --

You're in the middle of dinner when she texts you again and you try and hide the blush on your face.

It doesn't work and you spend the rest of the night avoiding your dad's teasing smirk. 

 

**34.**

Your dad almost scolds you when you tell him you can't go to church that Sunday; his look is fatherly, questioning and his brows furrow in the middle in an angry line. It takes a little courage but you tell him it's because Lexa is coming over and that you don't want to make her anxious or scared by leaving church with her and letting her think everyone can see you together. He agrees but it's reluctant and when he leaves the house he presses a kiss to your temple and tells you that if you're going to stay home that you need to clean up the breakfast dishes and the leftover mugs from the night before when you'd shared hot chocolate and pizza while your mom wasn't around. 

He promises he'll tell Lexa that she is invited over with his permission and you don't stop smiling even when he turns the car at the end of the street. 

Lexa texts you before the service starts and lets you know that she misses you presence in church but that she will see you in a few hours. Your heart speeds up at her words and you wonder if it's your influence that has made her so brave and you really hope that it is. You hope you provide for her what she provides for you on a daily basis. 

If you put a little extra time into your appearance that morning then it's simply because you want to take advantage of the empty house, that's all.

\--

She's so nervous in your house that it makes your heart flutter and you can't help but watch her every movement as she takes her sensible jacket off, as she kicks her shoes into the little box that your mom insists on having, as she fiddles with her fingers and waits for you to make the first move. Lexa is the strongest person you think you've ever met but she's still only human, she's still just a nervous teenager standing in front of the girl that she likes and you're starting to learn that you love that about her. Your eyebrow twitches when she makes a move to walk towards you before she second guesses herself and a pretty frown forms on her face, her irresistible lips pulling into a pout before she laughs nervously. 

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she admits as you finally take pity on her and lead her into the living room. You sit down with her on the comfortable couch and she perches on the edge, her knees pressed together and her back straight. She looks at your legs when she breathes out, "I've wanted to see you all day.  _All week._ And now you're here, I can't ignore this feeling in my stomach or my nerves." 

You lose yourself for a minute in how beautiful she is sat next to you before you sigh softly and reach across to take her hand. "It's just us, Lexa," you say to try and calm her down and you gasp a little when she turns her hand to hold yours and her eyes meet yours. "You don't need to be scared around me. It's just another Sunday." 

"Yeah," Lexa replies before she seems to steel herself and you watch as she shifts closer to you, your thighs brushing distractedly and you wonder how long you ignored this feeling she sets off in you. She looks at you so deeply for a few long moments that you don't know what to do with yourself but you like it because you can see the exact moment that she makes a decision and you let her tilt your chin to the left slightly to bring your lips together. Lexa kisses you like it's the only thing she knows how to do and even after experiencing it before, it never fails to set off a spark in your stomach that warms your chest and forces a gentle whimper from your lips. "Hello. I've missed you." 

When you kiss her again you bump teeth with how wide you're smiling but you can't deny it's as perfect as the first, the second, the last kiss you've shared. 

\--

You finally part to have lunch together. Lexa looks shy but her lips are swollen and her eyes are dark which gives her a more relaxed appearance and you wonder what you look like behind her eyes, you wonder if her heart is racing and if her stomach feels heavy with desire like you. She's admitted to you before that she's slept with Costia--(you try and not think about that particular memory too much)--but you're not sure where she is in relation to the two of you. That doesn't mean your hands don't shake and that it takes you two attempts to find the ingredients to make waffles for your late lunch together. She seems to be in a similar state though if the way she spilled the sugar before putting it into her coffee cup is any indication.

"What time do you have to be home?" You ask, just for something to concentrate on. She smells like peaches and your perfume mixed with her own and it's making your head spin. Lexa mixes the coffee and sugar and water together for a long time, her teeth sunk into her lower lip, and she finally gathers herself enough to look at you with bright eyes. 

"My curfew is ten," she says and her eyes flick down to your lips. "But if you keep kissing me like you were before then I'm not sure I'll manage to arrive home on time." 

You push the batter you've been mixing for far too long to the side and breathe out a wanton, "Jesus Lexa," before you capture her lips again. You can't get enough of this private Lexa; the one who only appears for you, the one who laughs and drinks apple cider and kisses like it's the end of the world. You can't get enough of her even as she bruises the small of your back by pushing you into the counter. Even as she steals your air and your moans and your touch. 

You're happy to give her all of it. 

\--

"So, did you like it?" You ask her and she looks at you with a bored expression before she schools herself, a smile widening her lips and she nods at you but she's so unconvincing that you laugh at her. She looks hurt for a second before she shakes you off and you smile before shifting and sitting higher on your bed. Considering you'd spend the past two hours shifting between having her tongue in your mouth and her desperate pants against your lips she'd put a little space between you when you'd invited her to your room to watch a movie. You don't mind too much because it gives you time to clear your mind but you kind of miss the warmth her body holds. "You're a shit liar, Woods."

"I am not," she protests and turns to lay on her side, her head propped up by her hand and you watch as she tilts her hips so she can cross one leg over the other to be comfortable. "I've managed to keep you a secret for long enough and nobody has caught me out on it yet." 

There must be a shift in your expression because Lexa looks like she instantly regrets her words and you can feel the tension in your face.  _A secret,_ you think. You're her  _secret._

You're not an idiot and you know she probably didn't mean it the way that it came across, you knew what you were getting into when she whispered she'd ruin everything because she was scared, you knew you couldn't be completely open about everything. You knew that. But it still hurt. The word still makes you feel dirty and cheap and a few 'too-difficult' moments away from being a mistake. She sits up and crosses her legs on the bed in one single fluid motion that makes you smirk despite your insecurities. 

"I just meant that you make me happy, Clarke," she says and you frown deeper because why couldn't she have just said that? Why did she have to remind you of the world outside of this room? "I'm surprised that nobody has managed to capture the smile you bring to my face just by sending me a message. I don't want you to think that I actually enjoy keeping what we share a secret."

She's looking at you but you're looking at your knees. The same knees you hid your blush into, your giggles, you idiotic dreams and thoughts and needs. You kind of hate that she can make you feel on top of the world one second and then like you're falling with no clear landing the next. Lexa makes a faint noise next to you and the bed moves violently as she rushes to get onto her knees and she shuffles closer to you; her hand cups the side of your face opposite to her and you don't fight it when she pulls you to look at her, when she wait for your eyes to meet her insistent ones shining back at you. 

"I know how difficult I am Clarke. I know that I'm asking so much of you when you're only just beginning to find yourself and it's not fair, I'm not being fair to you because we both know that I'm not even sure how much I can give to you when you deserve so much," Lexa says and it's not a whisper or shaky or scared. Her voice is solid and it grabs at your attention, her eyes claw you in and you can see her chin tremble under the effort of not looking away or running away frightened. "But when I'm with you...When we're together, you make me feel like I can give you all of the things that you deserve and yes I'm scared. I'm scared of my mom and what people will say and how your parents will react but you..."

She sighs and drifts off like words are simply too much for her and you lean in, you kiss her as hard as your heart is beating and her fingers clench against your jaw as she holds you closer. You know what she's trying to say, even through her stutters and her stumbles and you're so proud of her. She's not waiting for you to knock down her walls; she's pulling them down brick by brick herself, by herself, for herself. You know the town could be the end of the two of you if you let it but she makes you want to fight, even if right now neither of you are ready or have the strength to do it. But when it comes, when the day comes, you'll be ready for it.

With her. 

\--

Your dad texts to say that he can't make it home for dinner and to order takeout on his card. You don't tell him that you have the numbers memorized as you pretend to be shocked when he sends you the details. 

Lexa leaves at nine-thirty and you can taste the hope and a lifetime of Sunday's on her lips when she kisses you goodbye.

**35.**

Finn texts you on the Monday after you've spent the day with Lexa and you wonder why he's trying to get in touch again. From what you could assess at school he seems to be doing fine without you; his charming smile and bright eyes doing wonders for the female population of Arkadia and you really hope that it doesn't mean anything. Whatever this is that you're doing with Lexa, you want to do it without anymore issues than the ones you know you're inevitably going to face with your mother and your friends and the people at church. You read the message and notice he's asking you to a party at Jasper's on Friday night; you agree, because you like music and alcohol and laughter, but you make it clear that it's as friends. He doesn't reply and you ignore the worry in your stomach that you should probably tell Lexa about it but then Raven runs up to you to tell you about colleges and the course she'll be studying and you forget completely about what it was you needed to do. 

\--

You're in the middle of texting Lexa when it happens. She's at some dinner with her mother and she's bored but making you smile with her running commentary of the people surrounding her and her dry wit. Earlier she'd sent you a picture of the dress she was wearing and you'd stopped what you had been doing for a full thirty seconds, your attention completely taken by the light pink hue and the length of her legs. If anyone ever asks you why you're into girls you tell yourself that you're going to show them that exact picture. 

(And then possibly rant about genetics and sexuality and a whole host of other topics you know you've picked up from Lexa.)

You fire off a reply to Lexa's questioning of why all men over a certain age smell of the same cologne when Finn sits next to you, the heat of his body telling you that he's a little too close and you put your phone away slowly as to not raise too much attention. Raven is looking at you from the otherside of the room but you can see concern paint her features rather than jealous and she turns her body to watch your conversation with one eye. You shift away from him slightly but he places his hand on your bicep and you let him because he's still your friend and he's been witness to you at your most vulnerable; you trust him. 

"I'm glad you came tonight," he says and you nod because you are too. You miss Lexa and you think, as you look around, that she'd probably enjoy herself here too. But she's so convinced that people hate her, that the town is only there for her to help lead at their demand, that she would never come. "I've missed seeing you, Princess."

You hum because you don't like that name and because you can feel the vibration in your pocket letting you know that Lexa has replied. "Don't call me that," you say and the urge to roll your eyes grows as he laughs and leans closer to you. "Finn."

"Tell me you haven't missed me too." 

"You're drunk," you say and your eyes widen a little when he leans in, his attempt at kissing you out of the blue halted as Raven makes her way over and puts her hand on his shoulder.

He looks up in confusion before his face twists in something akin to horror and regret and he stands up quickly, bumping Raven's drink as he does, and he ignores her scoff as his eyes bore into yours. "Shit, I'm sorry," he rushes out and before you can say that it's okay, that he didn't actually do much, he leaves the room. You watch after him for a few seconds before you look away, confusion and annoyance clouding your mind. 

"Hey, forget about that idiot," Raven says and she sits next to you slowly, almost as if she's worried that you're going to startle and bolt out of the room too. "Finn's an ass when he's drunk." 

You sigh and nod but it doesn't make you feel better. You want to be at home and you want Lexa and you haven't felt this alone since arriving in Polis since your first night. "He said that he missed me but I don't think he even knew what he was saying," you admit and Raven gives you a sympathetic smile like she knows exactly what you're talking about. "I think he just wanted to kiss someone and he knew I was here." 

"Probably," she replies bluntly before she nudges you. "Did you want to kiss him?"

"No," you reply and because you want to make it clear that you don't want Finn, or anyone else, you keep going. "There's someone else that I want to kiss." 

Raven looks at you knowingly but you know she doesn't know it's Lexa; she doesn't go to church and she doesn't particularly care one way or another for Lexa. She has her opinions, of that you're sure, but she's never joined in the roasting of the girl unless someone has prompted her to. Raven, from what you can understand, is too much of a free spirit to join in with the crowd just because they want her too and you feel safe on this topic with her. 

"Cool. Who is the lucky guy? You might be new, Griffin, but I've heard your name a lot tonight." 

"No-one," you reply automatically and you realise your mistake a second too late when you see the wicked smile that crosses Raven's face.

"The lucky girl?" 

You had always thought you were a good liar but even you can see how your eyes have widened and your cheeks have flushed. "I don't..."

"Hey, it's cool," Raven says. You wish that you had known her longer because she's so calm and chilled out and easy with most people she meets. You like her influence in your life, and you like her encouraging smile. "Secret is safe with me, Blondie. Don't worry about what people might say or whatever. People are always going to talk about you, it's just a way of life. You either own it or you let it break you down." 

You nod at that and take a deep breath, unsure where to go with this but knowing that you need to say  _something._ "I'm not gay," you say and then you shake your head because you don't want to sound like an asshole. "I mean, I don't think I am. I like guys too. But there is this girl and she's...I can't explain it, but she's who I want now. Is that okay? You're my friend, Raven, and I've heard the things Octavia says --"

"Fuck Octavia," Raven clips and you immediately shut your mouth because you've never heard Raven sound quite so forceful in a serious situation before. "I'm not down with the whole labeling a person and then hanging them out to dry thing that this town has going on, alright? I've seen the way they treat people here and it's bullshit."

You know she's talking about Costia and Lexa but you don't know if she's mentioning it because she thinks it might be Lexa you like or if it's because she wants you to know she's on your side so you stay quiet. 

"People are people and love is love," she shrugs and you feel something inside of you grow; you feel the urge to hug her and cry on her shoulder and ask why everyone couldn't be like her. "Octavia is just...She's not really figured herself out yet and she uses that against other people sometimes. Just give her a little time and don't rush this. You are who you are, fuck the rest of them who think they can tell you otherwise."

This isn't how you expected the night to go and you clench your jaw in the hope you won't start crying in front of the coolest girl you think you've ever met. "Thank you," you say, but your voice wobbles and you flush deeply. 

"You're my friend, Clarke. I know we have had a little issue in the past with the wannabe Prince Charming but I'm over that if you are," she smiles and you nod because you need a girl like this in your life; you need Raven and her influence and her strength. "Whenever you want to talk just hit me up. We don't hang out enough."

And that seems to be the end of it because Raven gives you another little nudge and then she's up and off of the seat next to you, her arms in the air and yelling about shots. 

Thank God for Raven Reyes.

\--

"How was your party on Friday," Lexa asks as you both sit next to the river. It feels like it's been forever since you've been here with her but really it's only been a handful of Sunday's.

You've missed it though. You've missed seeing her against the backdrop of the trees and the calm bubbling river that flows behind her. She's in her workout clothes again and her hair is high in a ponytail on her head which exposes her cheekbones and strong jawline; she's distracting and gorgeous and you feel so fucking guilty because Finn had tried to kiss you when you'd been talking to her. She turns to look at you and confuses your silence for concentration when she takes in your sketchbook and your charcoals and she simply smiles at you, letting the subject drop.

For a few moments, while you try and organize your thoughts, you keep shading the legs of the deer you've been drawing. Lexa leaves you to it like she always does and she drops into a relaxed position, her legs folding over one another and she breathes deeply while she waits patiently for you to finish drawing. You like that about her; you like that she understands your art, that you prefer the quiet after a week of constant nagging from your mother.

She's beautiful. Inside and out. 

You stand and make your way towards her. She looks so serene that you address that first because it's easier, because she makes it easy to complement her. "You look so pretty when you're like this," you say and you watch as the words register in her slow smile. She lazily opens her eyes to look at you and gestures with her head for you to join her, so you do. 

"You're always very pretty," she volleys back and you laugh through your nose because  _God._ How could anyone hate this girl? "Are you okay, Clarke? You seem distracted today."

It's easier to be honest with her when you're looking at the river and you watch the ripples for several seconds before you reply. "Finn tried to kiss me on Friday," you say and then you hold your breath because you don't know how she's going to react. In the back of your mind you can remember what she was like when you told her that you and Finn had slept together; you remember the locked jaw, how she'd nodded and nodded and nodded like she couldn't do anything else, how when you said you were dating Finn she left you at the river alone.

"Oh," she says and you finally look at her. She hasn't moved from her position but she's looking down at her folded legs where her hands are turned palms up. "But you didn't kiss him?" 

"No. I didn't even think he still wanted..." You trail off because that's not a part of this conversation. To Lexa it doesn't matter what Finn might want; this is about the two of you. "Raven made him leave."

She licks between her lips, eyes narrowed, and begins to pick at her nails. "I'm glad you didn't kiss him," she finally says and you nod because what else can you do? There's more on her mind, you know that, but you don't know how to push the subject sensitively. "Would you have done it if Raven hadn't told him to leave?"

The question is fair but it still stings. "No." 

"Okay," she whispers and you hope it's because she believes you. "I wouldn't have blamed you. He's the easier option." 

You're not listening to her self-depreciating anymore and you shake your head quickly before you copy her move from the previous week and you move in front of her, pressing your fingers beneath her chin to focus her attention on you and you're surprised that she gives it you so easily. "Don't do this," you plead and she looks at you blankly for a few long seconds before guilt spreads through her gaze. "Lexa, don't. I want this with you, whatever this is."

"I know. I'm sorry," Lexa admits and she nuzzles into your hand, her eyes closing. "I trust you, Clarke, and I don't want you to think that I don't." She takes a few deep breaths before she opens her eyes and then nudges you to move as she stretches her legs out. In a few tugs she convinces you to sit on her thighs facing her and once she's satisfied with your position, she wraps her arms around your waist. "I'm sorry he tried to kiss you. Are you okay?" 

You smile because you kind of like this position. You like feeling her beneath you, her hands on you body, her face just a little lower than yours and you take the moment to press a soft kiss to the swell of her cheek. "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me or force anything. In fact once Raven pulled him to his senses I think he realised how much of a dick he was being because he apologized and left."

She hums softly and you feel her short nails scratching at your lower back as she relaxes. "I'm glad you had Raven there for you," she says before rests her lips against your jaw. "She's good for you."

"She's good in general," you reply honestly. Lexa liking your friends warms something inside of you and you wrap your arms around her shoulders a little tighter, thanking her without words for her support. "I told her that I like girls. Well that I like a singular girl, but I didn't mention you. I didn't think you wanted me to." 

"Is there anyone you aren't going to tell?" Lexa laughs and you feel it ripple through your own body from how close you're pressed together. She tilts her head a little firmer against your own and you move your own so that you can press your lips against any part of spare skin that you can. "How did she take it?"

"She was fine with it. She really helped with her advice."

Lexa pulls back and her eyes are bright with happiness for you. Part of you wonders if she's jealous that you've managed to tell two people without any real drama but you know she isn't petty like that. She's genuinely happy for you and you can feel it in the way she keeps holding you, in the way her lips curve happily at your words and you can't help yourself as you lean in to kiss her. She responds as she always does, her mouth warm and wanting as she leans into you and you press both of your hands to the back of her head to ensure that she won't move and make you lose this feeling. You shiver at the feeling of her tongue, moan as her fingers tighten against your bare waist, shake as she presses her hips up into yours and you can't stop. 

"I don't want to sound like some jealous ass," Lexa starts and you laugh because even when it's mild, you love it when she swears. "But I'm really glad you didn't kiss him. I want to be the only one who gets to do that."

You don't know what happens to you at her words but something takes over you and this time when you kiss her you lower her back to the ground and don't stop until the sun begins to lower in the sky.

**MAY**

**36.**

You jump when you walk out of church and see Raven waiting at the side of her car. For a few brief seconds you think that she's here to see Octavia but then you see her gesture to you and you swallow thickly, unsure and worried and terrified that Lexa is going to startle and bolt when she sees the only friend you've told about liking girls outside of the church. Lexa deserves more credit than that though and you take a deep breath and walk towards your friend, smiling at her as you approach.

"Hi," you say quickly and you want to cringe at how nervously your voice cracks. You wonder if this is how Lexa feels all of the time because standing here, in front of a judging crowd, with a person who knows your biggest secret is one of the scariest feelings you've ever had. Raven is trustworthy, you know that she is, and you're pretty sure she isn't going to start singing from the top of her car that you enjoy kissing girls but there's also a chance that she _might_. "What are you doing here?" 

Raven looks you up and down and you know that she's looking over your 'mom-approved' church outfit and you feel a little childish next to this older, cooler, badass girl. She's wearing boots and a leather jacket and you run your fingers over your sage pencil skirt. When Lexa had looked at you when you had walked into church ninety minutes ago she hadn't been able to tear her eyes away from where the fabric clung to your body and you kind of wish she was here now, her gaze approving and exciting. Raven doesn't say anything negative though and you take it as a compliment when she raises her eyebrow. 

"Girls got curves," she murmurs and you preen slightly under the attention. You know you look good but sometimes, when you surround yourself with girls like Lexa and Octavia and Raven, it's difficult to not wonder if  _other_ people think you look good. "I bet your girl approves." 

"Hey," you hush her and she takes the hint but not without an eyeroll and a deep chuckle. You wonder what would happen if you joined in on the joke, if you told her that Lexa really does approve. 

"Calm down, I'm not going to say anything to your God Squad," Raven answers and you sort of want to scold her for the insult but you don't because, well, you kind of think it's funny. You turn to look behind you regardless of your own thoughts and you're happy to see you're fairly isolated at this side of the car park, which calms you. "It's my birthday in two weeks. Just wanted to invite you." 

Your eyebrows rise at that and you can't deny the burst of excitement inside of you at the invitation. This is different to when Octavia invites you somewhere or Finn; Raven is  _cool._ Raven is the sort of girl you look up to, the girl you want to be friends with because she likes you for you. "Oh, what are you doing for it?" 

"Mom is away on a month long trip around the Bahamas so I'm opening up my house to the delinquents of Arkadia," she explains and you try to not notice to look of hurt on her face. She hides it well but it's still there and you know that it's not your place to comment on it but you hope you're giving her the comfort that she gave to you the night that you told her your secret. You're not naive enough to believe that you're the only one with secrets in Polis but having someone so outright admit theirs in front of you in jarring. This isn't like when Lexa told you about Lincoln offhandedly; this is Raven opening herself to you gently. "It's a two-night, three-day, extravaganza." 

"So a weekend?" 

"Don't ruin it," she grunts and you laugh at her as you pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself. "It starts Friday night and my house will stay open until Sunday afternoon. You're coming, right?" 

You definitely want to go so you nod, because you can leave on Saturday night and spend Sunday with Lexa and you can't wait to surround yourself with your friends. "I'll be there," you enthuse and Raven smiles, happy. "Is Finn going to be there?"

She shrugs, "Finn is always at these things." A look must cross your face because she laughs lightly and reaches out to poke your arm in jest. She's smiling wide enough for you to see all of her teeth, a little peek of her tongue, and you wonder when your love life became so amusing to other people. "Don't worry about him. He'll wax poetic to some girl about love and life and he's so embarrassed about what happened at that party that he'll probably leave you alone until your graduation." 

"It's not that I don't want to see him. I just don't want it to be weird," you say and you lean against the car that she's pressing against. From this view you can see the rest of the congregation and your eyes automatically go to Lexa. She's standing near the doors with Anya and Aden and their both talking to a tall man who looks like he earns money just by eating breakfast. He seems to be very invested in everything that Lexa has to say and you wish you could be stood there with her, you wish you knew who this man was. She's wearing a pretty dress today, floral and with a wide neck that shows off her collarbone. You wonder if she wears those types of outfits to church just to watch you squirm and you know it isn't fair. 

Raven is talking but you've missed most of what she's said and you flush when you realise your error, especially when she looks at you like she expects a reply. You open your mouth but she beats you to it with a smirk and a nudge. "She's here, isn't she?" 

"Who?"

"Your girl."

You try to not look as scared as you feel but you shift anxiously beneath Raven's knowing look and you always know when Lexa is looking at you so you can feel the heat of her gaze even as you squirm beneath the attention. Raven makes a point of not looking around the car park but she is looking at you like she expects an answer so you simply settle on a nod before following up with, "I don't think you can call her my girl yet." 

"Yet," she repeats and you finally look up to see Raven looking at you with a soft look. You're not sure if the image suits her but it makes you feel safe enough to look across at Lexa, her concerned frown making your stomach twist happily. "You want her to be?"

"She does too but it's hard. This town," you trail off because you trust that Raven will understand and she hums something under her breath that lets you know she does. "She's not ready and I'm still figuring everything out."

"This town isn't going to string you up and put you on display, Griffin. They're backwards but nobody is going to physically hurt you or anything. I need you to know that," Raven defends and you look at her for advice again, knowing she's coming from a good place and she isn't trying to defend the way some of the people in the close-knit community treat Lexa and her family. "If you can deal with some shitty comments and dirty looks then I say you should set this place on fire and give them something to really talk about."

"I'm not ready yet," you say shyly and your eyes follow Lexa as she walks with her family to her car. You don't fail to notice her tapping away on her phone and you're not surprised when, seconds later, your own phone vibrates with a message. "But when we are, I think I'll take you up on that."

Raven laughs, "I can help you make it go boom, don't worry." 

\--

You're at the river with her but she's led you down to a little area of it where it widens but where the grass is greener and there are more trees and shade. It's not particularly warm yet and, after your conversation with Raven and then sitting through a ten minute conversation she had with your dad about the new E-Class design that's been released, you had gone home to change. Lexa had pouted a little at the lack of your tight pencil skirt but she had masked it well and hadn't mentioned anything but your cheeks still remember how warm they'd felt under her stare a few hours earlier. 

You want to tell her that you feel the same way about her changing out of her pretty dress too but you need her to say her own confession first. 

"If you keep taking me further and further into the woods I'm going to start worrying about your intentions," you tease as you watch her lay back on a particularly green area of ground. At some point you're going to stop being so surprised at how stunning she actually is but right now you don't want to stop and instead you pull your Polaroid out of your satchel and set it up before focusing on her beauty. It's one of the rare occasions her hair is down and natural rather than tied up in a pony or a braid and you love how it fans out on the green background, the dark browns blending naturally into the surrounding and when she opens her eyes you genuinely gasp as the camera clicks. 

"My intentions with you are completely innocent," she muses from the floor like you aren't having a complete crisis over the color of her eyes. You're an artist, you know how color and light and shading work. You understand it's simply a trick and that Lexa had probably turned her head at the exact moment sunlight had filtered through the newly sprouted leaves, but  _fuck._ When the picture prints you shake it in a complete trance and look at it again. She's beautiful and her eyes are magnetic but they're nothing compared to when she had settled them on you seconds earlier and you pout a little because that's your role in life, as an artist, to capture pure beauty as it happens. 

She takes the picture from you slowly and smiles at it, for some reason not seeing what you can see, and you clear your throat a little. "Not too innocent, I hope," you say, bringing it back to the original conversation and saving yourself any embarrassment by spouting off about her captivating eyes holding colors you didn't ever think existed. That was too ridiculous, even for you.

Her arms stretch out towards you and she smiles when you take the hint and lay next to her, placing your camera down gently, and her voice is just a breath in your ear when she tilts her lips towards you. "Not too innocent," she agrees and before you can even think of a reply she's lowering her hands, her fingers relentlessly tickling across your abdomen. You squeal in laughter and kick your legs out but she quickly stops your movement by moving on top of you and she only stops when you yell for mercy between giggles. She doesn't move her hands from your stomach as she rests her weight back on your thighs and you don't stop yourself as you let your own hands move to rest against the outside of her knees, thumbs slowly making patterns over the denim. 

"You looked nice today. I liked your dress."

Lexa laughs slightly but she flushes in a way that tells you she dressed for your eyes only today. "You too," she whispers and her fingers push up the hem of your t-shirt just slightly, just enough that her pinky can trace a few patterns. "That skirt is incredible on you."

"I was hoping you'd like it," you admit over the sounds of the woods around you and you can't think of a time you've ever felt this calm. "Raven invited me to her birthday. You should come."

You're not sure where that has come from and you immediately want to take it back when Lexa stiffens on top of you but you hold tight, not willing to lose the feeling of her weight or the sensations she brings with just a smile in your direction. She looks down for a moment where her hands are but you take it as a good sign when she makes no move to get off of you or stop touching you. Rather than answering you Lexa simply inhales audibly and reaches across you to grab for the camera she bought you at Christmas. She's gentle while she holds it, knowing how much it means to you, and she sits back on her thighs as she looks down at you through the lens.

"Have I told you that I'm glad you have Raven? Because I am," she asks as she focuses on you through the viewfinder and you wonder what she sees when she looks at you. "I'm glad you have her."

You look around the camera as she pulls away from it slightly to ask her, "Who do you have?"

"Lincoln, Anya, Luna," she lists off with a smile and you breath a little easier because you hope she's being honest. You hate the thought of her dealing with everything that she has to deal with alone, you hate that you can go and talk to Raven about this girl who is prettier than the night sky and that you can talk to your dad about this girl who has changed your life, when she might not have a soul to speak to. "I have you."

"And who do you talk to when the subject is me?" Lexa shifts on your lap as you tease her softly and she brings the camera back to her eye. The sensation makes you gasp and she clicks the shutter at the same time that your mouth drops open and your eyes darken. There's a pleased smile on her face when she looks at you again.

"Anya, usually," she answers as you both listen to the whirring of the camera. "She kind of hates you."

"Why?" 

Lexa places the camera down as you wait for the picture to develop and she leans down, her hands bracing on the ground either side of your head and it makes you forget about everything in the world but her. She kisses you gently but you've been worked up since you'd caught sight of that damn collarbone in church and your hands immediately move from her knees to the curve of her ass and she lets out an attractive noise into your mouth. 

It's only when her lips are painting fire down the side of your throat does she decide to answer and you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"Because you're all I ever talk about anymore." 

\--

It hits you later that Lexa  _talks_ about you to people. That you're the subject of her conversations; that she talks to her sister and probably blushes and gets teased and you might not be officially dating but you're sure as hell hers.

**37.**

"This test is going to kill me," you decide as you drop your head to the table and you feel Lexa pat the back of your neck soothingly three times before she pulls away, clearly caught up in whatever book has taken her fancy today. If it wasn't so cute you would hate being ignored by her but you had mentioned that you needed to study and she offered the library so you could focus and buckle down. 

Mostly you feel annoyed and tired.

"You're doing fine," she promises but she hasn't looked up from her fictional world in about two hours and you're beginning to miss the feeling of her eyes on you. This however, you decide, this is nice. Sitting with her in silence, your feet occasionally brushing, the soft brush of her fingers against your own when she gets particularly restless at a scene in her book. It's nice, it's what you always thought it'd feel like to be with someone. Your head stays on the table and you flick your eyes to look at her better and she finally gives in, lowering her book to meet your gaze. "Clarke if it's not all fitting in there it's probably because you already know it."

"I hate it," rumbles out of your mouth and she smiles before reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, her fingertips running over the shell of your ear before she presses them lightly to your cheek like she would have done with her lips if she could. "I want to be in college already. Bellamy makes it sound like so much fun."

"You have to study there too, you know?" Lexa's eyes are bright with amusement and you know she's humoring you but, honestly, you're glad for the break and her fingers are running over your ears again in a way that makes your eyes heavy. "In fact I'd say you'd have to study a lot. It's not all sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll like he's making it sound."

You're halfway to slumber when you say, "I wouldn't mind studying as long as I can have the first and third thing."

"Oh, so you like rock 'n' roll," she says but you can feel the change in the way she touches you and your eyes snap open again, completely aware of what you may have just suggested. You sit up a little and she pulls her hand back but it lays close to you on the table and it takes everything in you to not grab it and drag her out of the library for a more private conversation. "I took you for a bit of a Pop Queen." 

"Lexa," you murmur and she shakes her head a little. You decide to play it safe when you change the subject and ask, "Do you know where you're going to college yet?"

"Wherever my mom says," she scoffs but you wait for her to reply properly anyway because you know that you're waiting for a real answer, you're waiting for her to tell you where she wants to go. "I don't know. Perhaps Polis State because as much as I don't want to do what my mom says forever, it is a good school."

You rest your head on your hand as you watch her and wait patiently. "And if your mom wasn't choosing your future for you?"

"Probably somewhere out on the West Coast," she smiles and you brighten a little at that. You know Lexa's mom has a future planned for her like your mom does for you but you like hearing of the things that she  _wants_ to do, not what she  _has_ to do. "Cons are earthquakes but a pro would be bikini weather, so you take the good with the bad." 

An honest laugh erupts from you at that admission and she snaps out of whatever dream she was in to flush and throw your pencil at you. "I'd like to go West too," you say once you settle down a little and she sighs softly. "Maybe someday we'll be able to."

"I hope so," she replies and you're sure she's going to kiss you but Mrs. Kane takes that moment to hobble by with her little crate of books and suddenly Lexa isn't yours anymore, she's the mayors daughter and she hides behind her book once more. 

 --

You decide to approach your embarrassing slip when you're walking back towards your respective homes together. Lexa is walking besides you and neither of you are speaking; it's comfortable and soft but your own words have been playing on your mind since you said them and you need to know where the two of you stand. It's not like you care if you're official or not--you can wait for her, you will, and you know she'll wait for you--but you have to know what's acceptable and what isn't and if she's going to wear tight jeans and dresses that show too much skin then you really need to know what's acceptable. 

"So remember when I said that I'd be happy with sex and rock 'n' roll in college?"  _That,_ you scold yourself,  _that was the dumbest start to a sentence ever._

Lexa halts completely, right there in the street, and you wonder for a second if you've broken her. "I recall, yes," she says and she almost sounds robotic, like she's schooling herself to keep her voice calm and you're glad you're not the only one making a fool of herself in the middle of an empty street because of a pretty girl. 

"I was wondering if that was, you know, okay with you," you say and your eyes widen because you really could have done this anywhere else and the crisp May air is really beginning to freeze your lungs. "In college. Or, well, now."

"Now?" She squeaks and you're pretty sure you're both going to pass out. 

"Not now, I just --" Words are failing you and you scowl at the floor as you try and piece it together in your mind. What's the point in being a creative person if you can't string together a sentence? You look at Lexa who looks like she's about four seconds from bolting away from you and you steel yourself, your hands clenching and you tell yourself to be brave and just do this. "I'd like to. With you. When we're both ready, is what I mean. Unless you don't want to and then I'm okay with that too." 

Your ramble doesn't scare Lexa off like you think it might but she blinks a few times before glancing around, contenting herself with the face you're alone, and she steps closer. "But you haven't been with a girl before, have you?" 

"No," you admit and you take her lead by moving closer still. "But you have and I trust you. I'm not trying to rush you, or us, or myself and I'm not saying it has to happen tomorrow but I'd like to try things. With you." 

"Oh," she says and you're pretty convinced you have broken her. How she ever managed to get Costia to fall into bed with her you're not sure but you're just as much of a bumbling mess as she is and that thought makes you smile because really, what were the odds you'd find someone like her? "I'd like that too."

"Are you sure because you sound kind of terrified," you laugh and she finally breaks a smile, one that presses against her cheeks and blooms right across her mouth. 

"You absolutely terrify me," she admits. 

\--

For the first time she walks you to your house and you're sure it's because you're both caught up in a conversation about how much YouTube stars actually earn. Her eyes widen as she seems to realise what she's done and you want to reach out, to hold her and ensure she won't panic and run because she's given in. Nobody is looking, you think, nobody cares and you want to tell her that but her hands are already in her pockets and she looks so  _small._

"Remember a few weeks ago when you came here and kissed me so hard that I felt it for days?" 

You hope it distracts her, you hope it calms her down, but she's already taking a few steps away from you and looking around to see if any curtains are twitching or if people suddenly need to step outside. "Clarke, don't."

"Don't be scared," you say softly and she pulls her lower lip into her mouth before looking up and away from you. She's trying so hard to stay calm and you stay quiet as you let her anxiety calm, as she fights with her own inner demons. "Nobody is looking at us, Lexa. It's just us." 

She glances up at your house and you turn around to see if you can see what she can. Nothing has changed; the lights are off, your dads car is on the drive, everything is fine. "What about your mom?"

"Late shift."

"And your dad?"

You smile at her, "I'm pretty sure he knows how much I like having you around."

She swallows hard at that and you briefly wonder if she is mad that you're having an easier time than she did coming out but then she looks at you with soft, wide eyes and you know that isn't the case. You know she's happy for you, proud  _of_ you, and she's simply working hard on being brave for you. "Maybe next time don't mention our make out to relax me. It does quite the opposite." 

"Yeah, I feel you on that," you admit. She rocks up on her toes once before she nods once to herself and leans in to press a kiss against your cheek. "Lexa." 

"You make it very difficult to not want to touch you."

 _Shit,_ you know that feeling.

"Text me," you tell her, with no room for argument, and she nods at you with a tender look that you know is reserved only for Sunday's. "And think about Raven's party."

"I will," she promises so faithfully that you can do nothing but believe her. 

**38.**

You're drunk.

You're so drunk that you know you can't go home but you don't trust yourself to stay at Raven's and not keep drinking. Bellamy is basically the only thing that is keeping you upright you realise but he's too busy talking about the cosmos and the history of the universe to really notice that your eyes are heavy and that your tongue is too big for your mouth. Raven had, a while ago, placed a bottle of water in your hand and you remember going outside with Bellamy because his freckles are pretty and you really want to paint his face. His arm is loosely around you but it feels nice, nicer than when Finn had leaned in at that last party but not as nice as it feels when Lexa does it to keep you close.

You're so drunk and you miss Lexa.

"Are you two lovebirds camping out here tonight or do you have someway of getting home?" Raven is far more sober than you ever expected her to be at her own party. She looks awesome in her tight jeans and the red shirt that makes her lips look softer than velvet, but she's kind of intimidating as she looks over at you and you really want her to like you so you smile at her. 

Then her words hit you. "Ew, no. Bellamy and me aren't dating," you scoff drunkenly and even you're aware of how much your words are beginning to slur into the other so it's one long blur of noise. "No offence."

"None taken," he replies and you smile happily because he really doesn't sound offended and you just want your friends to be happy with you. Except Lexa. You want Lexa to just be  _with_ you but she's not here and you know you can't just announce something like that without her permission; it'd be rude."I'm taken anyway."

"Who by, history books?" When she teases Bellamy like that Raven always looks at you and it makes you preen a little under the attention. You're a part of the group, you've really settled into Arkadia and even if Octavia sometimes looks at you like she can read all of your deepest, scariest thoughts you think that maybe most people like having you around. "You're so lame, Blake."

"Listen, no listen," Bellamy starts and you scowl at him as he shifts in indignation because his movement dislodges you from where you have happily been laying and now you can't hear the soothing rumble of his voice beneath your ear. "Out of all of us here,  _who_ has had a threesome?"

Raven smirks. "Wasn't that when you went to Amsterdam with Finn?" She asks and your eyes widen as you look at Bellamy. "If you pay for it then it doesn't count."

"Yes it does!"

You smile as the argument continues because you're alive and you're happy and tomorrow is Sunday, Lexa's day, and you can't wait.

\--

 **Clarke Griffin:**  
On a scale of 1-10 how much  
would you hate me if I asked   
you to come and pick me up?

 **Lexa Woods:  
** I wouldn't. Are you still at Raven's?

 **Clarke Griffin:**  
Yes.  
Are you really going to come?  
It isn't even Sunday.

 **Lexa Woods:**  
Technically it's been Sunday for an hour  
now.  
I'll be there soon. Drink some water.

\--

You're sat on the steps outside of Raven's house when someone sits next to you and you smile when you see it's Raven herself, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. You had mentioned you were going to get a lift home while Bellamy and her argued over the logistics of a threesome and then went to find water, a drink that Lincoln had happily provided for you with a knowing smile and a soft look. You're not sure how much he knows but you do know that the three siblings don't keep any secrets so you're sure he's aware of everything and that thought makes you swell a little with pride, because as scared as Lexa is about the whole situation she's also willing to tell her most important people about you. 

"How are you getting home?" Oh, you haven't thought of an excuse yet and you're sure it shows on your face. Raven looks at you knowingly and you flush under the intense gaze. "She's coming for you, isn't she?" 

You nod shyly before meeting her eyes, your own pleading. "If you recognize who it is please don't say anything," you whimper and the offended look on Raven's face makes you wince a little. You trust her, you do, but you know Lexa is risking a lot by coming to pick you up from a party where everyone knows her but she's doing it for you and you don't want to do anything that might upset her. "Nobody can know."

"I don't get it," Raven mutters. "You like this girl and she likes you. What's the big deal?"

"The whispers, the taunts, our parents," you list and Raven rolls her eyes so perfectly that you kind of want to ask how she does it. "She's been through enough already. She's been made to feel like the enemy just because of the things she feels and she's not. She's lovely and sweet and she can't sing a single note to save a life, but she's mine. And I don't want to scare her away by rushing her into something that she's already experienced and lost at."

"Are you really living life if you're not experiencing it all?"

You laugh at that and nudge her gently, wanting to be like her a little. "She lets me experience enough," you smirk and Raven lets out a flirty little noise that makes you blush. "When we leave here then I'm sure it'll be okay, we'll be okay. But my mom can't know yet and I don't know what she'll do if she finds out."

"And what about her parents? Will they support her?"

"Not publicly," you say, only seconds later realizing the error of your words. "Shit."

Raven's eyes are wide when she turns to look at you. "I should have guessed it. You're banging Lexa Woods?"

"No," you rush out but you know you're caught and you kind of want to cry because God, Lexa didn't deserve this. "Please, Raven. We're not...That's not..."

"Hey, chill," she puts her hand on your arm and you look at her painfully, your eyebrows brought together tightly and your jaw clenched. You really hope that nobody heard that confession because if it ever came out that Lexa was disappointing her mom again or dragging their family name through the mud, just because you had drank a little too much, you're not sure you could ever live with yourself. Lexa, at such a young age, has already had to deal with the looks and the whispers and the slurs. She's dealt with people  _blaming_ her, with people acting like she was a bad person. You can't be the cause of that again; not even if you want to sing from the rooftops that she makes your belly swoop and your lips ache. "Clarke, chill. I'm not going to say anything, I promise." 

"Please," you beg again, only this time it's Raven who looks sad. "Please. Nobody can find out. If Octavia hears anything, or my mom, or..."

A voice calms you down, the same voice that  _always_ calms you down, and you look up in shock as Lexa walks towards you. "Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah, she's fine. She's drank a little too much, y'know? Newcomer," Raven giggles but Lexa is looking at you like you're going to collapse or be sick or give her reason to panic. Her eyes are wide and she struggles for a second, unsure if she should step towards you, but she finally braces herself and she does the one thing you didn't think she would ever do and she holds her hand out to you. 

"Does she have a ride home?"

Raven, beautiful Raven, just looks at Lexa and you watch the exchange happen. "I know you're her ride home," your friend says and you grasp at Lexa's hand before she can run away or shout and yell and cry. There's a difference between you saying that Raven knows you like girls and being confronted as the girl that you like but Lexa seems to hold the new information easily and she simply nods. "It's okay. Get her back safe."

"I will," Lexa hums and the sound makes you smile. You don't realise how much you miss her voice until you have to wait all week to hear it. "Thank you, Reyes." 

Raven nods once before she stands up slowly and she salutes at the both of you. "Use protection," are her last words and you both laugh nervously as she walks into the house. 

"C'mon, Griffin. Let's go."

\--

She's parked the car a little further up the street than you anticipated but she has her arm locked around your waist and you like the feeling far too much to complain. There had been a moment where you were scared that she was going to panic about Raven being so open about the two of you but she hasn't said a single word and you hope it's because she doesn't mind and not because she's angry. You really hope she isn't angry with you.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," you say sullenly because while she looks pretty and beautiful, she also looks quickly put together with her hair in a bun and glasses on her nose and a muscle shirt that simply reads 'Dad-Bod' across the front of it. This is your Lexa, you smile. Not made up with make up and glitter and dresses that drive you distraction. This is your lazy smiles and soft laughs and gentle eyes Lexa. "I didn't want to call my dad and worry him and everyone else was too drunk."

Her lips press against the top of your head, even as you walk, when she whispers, "I'm glad you called. I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about you."

A smirk takes over your face and you know your tone is smug. "You were thinking about me in bed?" In truth you don't know where this confidence has come from recently; you're just as nervous about sleeping with her as you had been with Finn and the other boys back in Washington. In fact you might be more nervous because she's a  _girl_ who has  _experience_ and the sexiest pout known to mankind. If push comes to shove you're not sure that if Lexa asks, right here and now, for you to take her that you won't take off running back to your own house. 

"I was thinking about tomorrow," she says but you can hear the smile and that's enough for you. You reach her car and she lets you lean against it as she fishes her keys out of her pocket before she meets your eyes shyly. "I was thinking we could go somewhere out of town, maybe for something to eat?"

"Like a date?"

"Maybe."

She's blushing and it looks deep and attractive beneath the streetlights. You reach out and tangle your fingers into the bottom of her shirt, uncaring if you mess it up, and tug her close enough that you can feel her crowd her body with yours and taste her breath on your lips. Lexa takes that moment to brace her hands at either side of your head on the roof of the car and you don't think you've ever felt this excited by another person invading your presence before. 

"Say it's a date," you insist and you know by her smile that you're not pushing her too much, that she's just as crazy and as lost in you as you are in her. "Say it, Lexa."

"Say you want it to be a date," she fires back and you feel a tug in your stomach, a surge of arousal at her calm demeanor and flirty attitude. There are so many sides to Lexa, so many versions of her, that you struggle to keep up and it makes your mind dizzy. In the light of day, by your river, she's soft and sweet and sleepy. In the library she's smug and sarcastic, a little witty. With others she's aloof, cold, judging and that makes you just as excited as Lexa at night. Where she's flirty, low-voiced,  _sexy._ "You want it to be, right?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

You shake your head because this game is too much fun but also because she's stolen all of your words with her dark eyes and coming out in the early morning to take you home. She's taking so much from you and, yet, you want to give her more. Without really thinking you drag your hips together roughly and you feel her shudder under you, her lips meeting your in a rushed kiss that completely takes over your senses. She's everywhere, her hands skimming under your black shirt and lifting it up to expose your stomach to the cool press of her clothed body against yours. The streets are dead, there's nobody around, but it still feels like a huge step for both of you as her tongue skims against your own and as she swallows your moans in the middle of the street on a Sunday morning. 

"I should take you home," she pants against you, as you break to heave air into your aching lungs, and you feel the damp press of her words against your cheek. "I should...We need to go before people start leaving Raven's party." 

You know you're only a block away but you can't stop now you've started and you really don't want her body to leave yours. You know this is simply a reaction to your playful flirting, from the intense conversation with Raven, from the alcohol, but you still want the feeling of her pressing against you and the firm sensation of her tongue on yours. "Take me to yours," you say quietly and she stiffens.

"We're not having sex, Clarke."

"I know. I don't want to," you lie because you know you're turned on and she kisses so perfectly but you know neither of you are ready for that yet. "I just can't go home. My mom will kill me if she finds out I've been drinking."

She looks torn for a few seconds before she nods. "Okay, but what about church tomorrow?"

"Do you think Lincoln will cover for us?"

You watch a smile blooms on Lexa's face and she nods, already formulating a plan in her mind, and she ushers you into the car before you risk it anymore than either of you need to. The risk is fun, yes, but you don't know if it'll be worth the fall out if your mom finds out about your drinking and kissing of girls--a girl--before you get ready for church the very next morning.

\--

Lexa is so nervous as you walk into her room together and you have to wonder where her parents are. There were no cars outside but you're pretty sure there is a garage below the house and so you stay quiet, not wanting to assume they're not home and then facing the wrath of them by accidentally waking them up. Her room isn't what you expected; it's teal and grey but there are cushions and throws and candles that make the whole thing a little more extravagant than it needs to be. You're kind of jealous of her interior design eye but, then again, you think that everything Lexa does is perfect and you shake your bias thoughts away as she turns to look at you.

"Take the bed," she says with a shrug. "There are spare sleep shirts and shorts in the bottom drawer and the door there leads to the bathroom. Anya is on the otherside and we share but she'll lock the door if she's in there so don't worry about walking in on her or something." 

You notice that Lexa rambles when she's scared and you like that you know that about her but you want the confident Lexa back that had pressed you against her car and you step forward, your fingers curling around her wrist. "Stay with me," you say quietly and she bites at her lip. Part of you knows that she's going to let you down gently and you really hope she won't, but Lexa wouldn't be Lexa if she wasn't like this and you hold her a little tighter. "Just tonight."

"You've been drinking," she says and you frown slightly because you're sober now, at least more than you were when you text her, but she's clearly fighting with something and you stay patient. "And you were obviously having an intense conversation with Raven earlier. I don't want to take advantage of any state you might be in and I..." When she trails off you think that might be it but then she surprises you, reminds you how much she's growing. "Each time I'm near you I want to touch you more and more. Not tonight, okay? I'll stay with Anya. My parents are away at a meeting this weekend in TonDC so don't worry about running into them if you wake early, just try and sleep."

You sigh and smile when, as you pull her closer, she moves to put her hands on your hips. "And we'll go on that date?"

"You might be a little hungover tomorrow," she murmurs and then leans in to press a soft kiss against the swell of your cheek, then another on your eyebrow. "Have I told you how proud I am of you lately?"

"Lexa."

"No, I am," she insists, her lips pressing another kiss between your brows before she pulls away to look at you. "I know this hasn't been easy. I know I make things harder than they need to be. But you're doing so well at discovering yourself and learning your own mind, all while looking after me and being this amazing person." 

You sigh and return her kisses, one to the sharp lines of her jaw. "You make it easy." 

"Stop," Lexa says and you turn your eyes to her. "I know how hard it is to come out and I know you think you have a long way to go but you're doing perfectly, Clarke. I know Raven knows and I'm glad for that because it gives you the peace you've been looking for. So when you asked earlier if it was a date the answer is yes, of course it is. You deserve to be taken out after what you've achieved recently." 

You think that you might cry but she presses another kiss to your lips, gentle and closed-mouthed and it leaves you wanting more. "You make me proud too."

"I'm working on it," she admits, her forehead moving to rest on your own. "Maybe someday this will all be easy for us." 

Lexa finally pulls away and you let her part from you, a little overwhelmed by her words, and you only let go of her physically as she steps far enough away from you that your arms simply fall naturally down. "Goodnight, Lexa," you say, the weight of her words and the alcohol reminding you of how tired you really are and she gives you the most heartbreaking smile you think you've ever held witness to.

"Goodnight, Clarke."

\--

When she leaves she gives you one last, longing, look and you dream of California and Lexa and how proud you manage to make her.

 


	4. May - June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so as some of you might be aware I lost this chapter while away for work. Which means this is a little clunky and thrown together and I am so very sorry about that. I didn't want to let any of you down or make you wait any longer since it's been forever since I last updated.
> 
> As always this is rough because I wrote it in, honestly, about eight hours. It's full of typos and errors I will fix everything later, I swear. Anything edited will be posted so you all know. Thank you for understanding.
> 
> Warning: There is a little homophobic language in this chapter and some bi-erasure. Please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable and if you need me to help with anything you can find my at my tumblr (brokendevilwrites)

**MAY.**

**39.**

It's raining just a little near the river when Lexa finally turns up and your breath catches in your throat a little at the image of her in her tight leggings and loose running shirt that are both completely soaked through to her skin. You're in a warm jacket and huddled beneath the largest umbrella in your house when she approaches and you kind of want her to walk slower because the image of her in front of you, wet and panting and a little pink-cheeked, is a little more than you can handle but you do know that you want more. Your dad had mentioned the dark clouds in the sky when you'd been in church but you hadn't paid attention and he knew it. All of your focus had been on Lexa and the soft way she'd fold her hands in front of her body as she spoke to people in the congregation, the soft look on her face as she listened to their stories and thanked them politely for their contributions to her mothers work.

In hindsight you probably should have listened to him more because the bottom of your jeans are utterly wet and Lexa is shivering slightly but, when she leans in and kisses you with a wet mouth, you think it's probably worth it. 

\--

"Did you ever finish that picture you started? The one of me," Lexa asks when the rain begins to stop. You stay under the umbrella with her, huddled close, and play with her fingers as you think about her question; to Lexa it's simple, to you it's really not. You try and remember which picture that you've drawn of her that she's seen, which one you spoken to her about. Beneath your pillow you have a sketchbook that you play with at home and there are pages and pages and pages of her; her hair, her fingers, her eyes, her lips. Half finished masterpieces that only deserve that title because of the subject they're based on. You're well aware that you're not the only artist whose dedicated hours and hours in pages and curves to one person but you don't want to fall into that cliche just yet. "You were drawing my back for class or something. It was nice."

You smile because you remember that picture. It had been between pictures of Raven's necklace and Octavia's hands and your teacher had told you that it was some of your most detailed work. "Yeah, that one got me a pretty nice grade." 

"You're very talented," she compliments and you wonder for a second why she brought it up before she continues. "I'd like to see your finished work one day."

"Okay," you find yourself agreeing and then your brows furrow a little in surprise. Usually your work is private but the idea of Lexa seeing it doesn't fill you with worry like it usually does and you simply let yourself feel content rather than questioning it. "Not right now though. I'm too comfortable here." You make your point by pressing closer into her side and she digs her fingers a little tighter into your jacket, her head tilting to press a gentle kiss against your hairline. "How has your morning been?"

She hums at you like she wasn't expecting you to ask about her and you press closer against her neck just to inhale her. "It's been okay. Mrs. Tsing called me this morning to say that she happy to move my French lessons to Saturday instead which is a welcome surprise," she says and you know that she's telling you because it means you get longer together on a Sunday now. The smile that breaks on your lips almost hurts your cheeks and you twist even more so that you can press a kiss against her neck, the flutter of her heart against your lips intoxicating to you senses. "And Aden fell asleep into his oatmeal during breakfast so watching Anya fix that mess before church was rather entertaining." 

"Shit that's so cute," you say happily and you feel her laughing against you before she shifts a little. Her hand reaches for the phone that she straps to her arm when she runs so that she can listen to music and you watch silently,your eyes focused on her dexterous fingers and the small droplets of water balancing on her skin. It's rare Lexa is willing to show you anything but when she does you take it all greedily; you take it like she isn't going to give you anything again. From where you're leaning against her you can see her open her camera roll and even though she tries to scroll up quickly you're aware that your face is in some of her most recent pictures and it makes you blush. You only manage to see a quick blur of them but you know they were taken when you were distracted and you like this side of her.

You like that she feels she need to capture moments with you and keep them safe.

"This is him over Christmas," she says proudly and, after a few seconds, she lets you take the phone from her own hand and she watches as you move through the images. You see Lincoln holding the giggling blonde boy, his own grin wide, and you see Mayor Indra in a Christmas hat leaning against Gustus. There's Anya holding Aden as her and Lexa smile towards the camera, the small boy preoccupied by gnawing on a toy car in his chubby little hands. If Lexa is anxious about you looking through all of the different pictures she doesn't mention anything. Instead she relaxes against you as you take in her  _family,_ Lexa and her family. You've thought it before but you really are struck with how genuine they seem, how simple.

The small town whispers have made them into this scary image; this force that nobody should get close to. And, judging by the picture of Lexa on Lincoln's shoulders and Anya on Gustus', they are anything but. "I remember this dress," you say with a deep smirk, swiping to an image of Lexa in the sleek black dress she'd shown up to your house in over Christmas. "I thought you were going to kiss me that night, you know?" 

"I was going to," she says and the truth startles you enough to look at her, your gaze narrowed. And suddenly she looks so petulant that it makes you giggle, "I was!"

"Like hell you were. Lexa you're still scared to walk through town with me," you argue back but you pull your lips into a smile to let her know you understand, that you worried too. "The only way our lips would have touched that night would be me giving you mouth-to-mouth because you were overthinking everything too much to breathe." 

She laughs and you preen, your chest puffing out slightly in pride like always when you make her happy, and you feel her fingers sneak beneath the hem of your warm jacket. You enjoy the chill. "Doesn't mean that I wasn't going to kiss you. I psyched myself up in the car, with Anya's encouragement of course," she replies and, at that admission, you hand her the phone back and pull away to look at her properly. There's a little distance between you and it makes her pout prettily enough that you lean in and kiss it away. "What?"

"You told Anya you were going to kiss me that night?" 

It takes a second but her honesty seems to catch up with her and she flushes deeply, her ears turning pink and you fight to stop the laughter. "Well, I suppose..."

"No," you cut her off, bouncing excitedly and almost toppling the umbrella over. Lexa reaches back to adjust it between the rocks you've wedged it between and you watch her wriggle a little in discomfort, clearly annoyed at herself for being so honest and proud because she's opening herself up more and more. "Don't overthink it. Tell me everything, honestly."

"There's nothing to tell," she protests but she lets you take her hand anyway and only rolls her eyes once. "At the event me and Anya had managed to sneak away and steal a bottle of wine. We were simply talking and I mentioned that I wanted to give you the present I'd bought for you. But Anya, for all she is good, is very annoying and began teasing me relentlessly all night about my 'crush' on you." She scoffs a little but you're enthralled by both her story and the fact she actually goes as far as to use air-quotes around the word crush, despite holding your hand. She's adorable and not enough people can see it. "When we were coming home she insisted that our driver brought me to your house to drop off the present and, since I had a little courage from the wine, I thought it'd be a good idea to ring the doorbell."

You remember the night well. You'd been alone, happy and content and warm. You'd missed her that day. She'd walked into the hallway and you'd been so struck by her skin on display and the glitter that made her glow that you hadn't seen the car outside, or the faint smell of alcohol on her breath, or how she shook. You just remember her shy smile and the Polaroid and how you shared a moment that had caused you to walk down the path of your own self-discovery towards her. 

"Anya had talked me up in the car. She said that I should kiss you and if you pushed me away then she said we'd blame the wine," Lexa continued, unaware of how taken you are with her. "I was going to but you were with Finn and I only remembered when you said my name because you said it in the same way you did when you told me you were dating him." 

You sigh at that but you don't apologise. Finn was, still is, important to you. You don't regret him, even after his drunken advances, you simply regret the timing. "I don't know what I would have done if you would have kissed me then," you admit and she nods, turning your hand over and tracing her fingers along the lines of your palm. 

"I'm glad I didn't," she says and when you look at her again you find that she's already looking at you with soft eyes. "I'm rather partial to how our story started." 

When you kiss her in reply, to tell her you agree, your hand curls around the back of her neck and she dislodges the umbrella herself as her hand fumbles around to press against your own skin. You only part when the first drop of rain lands on your cheek and the Heavens open once more. 

\--

The streets are still wet and shiny when you both walk back towards the center of town and you hold the umbrella between you so that you don't cave in and hold her hand. She's only a little embarrassed from her admission of the first time that she had ever wanted to kiss you but your lips had taken that blush away and replaced it with a sweeter one instead. Her lips are a little swollen and it starts something warm inside of you each time you look at her; if you look closely enough you can see where your bottom teeth sank a little too deeply into her bottom lip and made a mark, you can see the red swell of her mouth from where you sucked on it. She's starting something in you that you weren't sure was even there but you know you like it, you like how it burns. 

You're going to say something about it, tease her that she's wearing her hair down now from where it had been up before, when a car slows beside the two of you before stopping and sounding the horn gently and you watch the shutters in Lexa's eyes drop down. You try and remember what her smiles tastes like, just to keep the smile on  _your_ face, but she's moving away from you and you feel a different kind of burn now. Because your lips are still swollen from her kisses and your back is still sore from where she turned you both to the ground a little too roughly but she's acting like she's never seen you before and it  _hurts._ You expect her to do it but it  _hurts._

"Hello Mrs. Vie," Lexa says as she walks towards the car and you watch as a dark-haired woman looks to you before she looks back at Lexa, her eyes betraying the calm that her face is desperately trying to show. You stay back a few paces as Lexa bends at her hips to talk through the window and you try and not look as awkward as you feel. "How are you?" The woman says something that you can't hear correctly, she's too far away, but you can see the way Lexa tenses her hands and how she shuffles her feet. She's embarrassed, worried, and you know she's lying to try and stop any other questions.

When she looks back at you, you can see the apology on her face. "Oh, her? No. I don't know her at all but I twisted my ankle on my run and luckily she was on the trail while I was walking back. She was just helping me."

You shake your head for so long that you really hope they don't figure out it's because you're trying not to get upset.

"I should go," you say and Lexa is looking at you with big eyes that you can't handle when you know what flavor lip-gloss she wore this afternoon. "You seem okay now."

She goes to reply but you can see her look back at the car when Mrs. Vie says something which you knew was coming. You remember her saying they were neighbors, that Maya Vie now lives in the house Costia once lived in, and you know the woman is going to offer Lexa a life lest she walk home with another girl and be  _seen._ Your heart beats harder when you see the look on Lexa's face, and you know she doesn't want to upset you but she has a reputation with the people of Polis to protect, and you shrug at her as a reply. You wish you could both be braver but this is who you are right now and you simply turn away and act like the most important person in the world to you pretended she didn't know your name.

She doesn't look at you when Mrs. Vie drives past and you don't know if that's a good thing or not.

\--

**Lexa Woods:  
** I'm sorry, Clarke.

**Clarke Griffin:**  
It's not the first time I've  
walked home alone. Don't worry.

**Lexa Woods:**  
Please don't do that. I'm trying to   
be better, I swear.

**Clarke Griffin:  
** I know. Give me tonight, okay?

**Lexa Woods:**  
I never meant to hurt you but if you  
still want to do this with me then I promise  
I'll be better everyday. 

**Clarke Griffin:**  
It's okay. I'm not mad. I'm really not and  
we're okay. I just need tonight.

**Lexa Woods:**  
You're amazing. Sometimes my actions  
don't show that but you are, Clarke.

**Clarke Griffin:  
** Goodnight, Lexa.

\--

You don't sleep particularly well that night but when you text Lexa a good morning message--(because you're mad but you're not  _that_ mad)--and she instantly replies, despite the early hour, you realise that she probably didn't either.

It makes it a little easier.

**40.**

Lexa makes a show of texting you everyday after the little moment with Maya's mom. You're used to her messages during the day anyway but she seems to take it a notch; she tells you about how much fun it is beating Luna in all competitions that the other girl starts and how long her history class feels because she already knows the subject they're talking about. She texts you during her piano lessons and her French lessons and between the meetings she holds for her different clubs. And it wasn't like you didn't talk before, you did, but she's trying so much more and you can feel your heart swell a little stronger each time she sends you a mundane message just on the off-chance you'll text back and she'll get to see your name.

You always message her back because you always want to see her name on your phone too.

It still kind of stings that she can walk away from you so easily but you understand, you really do, and the 'thinking of you' messages kind of help a little.

\--

You're talking to Wells outside of the church when the older gentleman you'd seen a few weeks ago approaches the Woods' family again. He zeroes in on Lexa, much like he had the first time, and you don't fail to notice the way both Lincoln and Anya move to stand behind each of her shoulders despite the fact they were having their own conversation. She's so tiny and sweet but she has an unseen army behind her and you smile at that, that she's so protected and tough in her own right. 

Wells clearly catches on that you're not talking to him fully--which is rude of you because ever since your Sunday's have been taken up with Lexa you've spent less time with him and you miss him a little--and he looks at you quizzically. He follows your eyeline and lets out a little laugh, almost like he isn't surprised at where you're looking, and you snap your glance away to try and look like you hadn't been drooling over the way Lexa was tilting her chin at the older man. 

"That's Nyko Washington," Wells explains quietly and you look at him with an air of nonchalance and not at all like you're completely invested in his knowledge. It seems that Wells and his father know freaking everyone and you kind of like that you have a friend like him because it makes it easier to get a read on the people around you if you know what they're about first. "Rumor has it that he's heard that Lexa and Lincoln want to go into medicine and he can help. He's at D.C College, it's a medical school out of state. Expensive but worth it."

You remember Lincoln mentioning that he wanted a career in medicine and you can imagine the offer is tempting to him but you're aware that Lexa is still deciding. You're sure she's still going to do what her mom wants. You remember the conversation about 'Business and Politics' - she'd never even mentioned medicine before. "I thought Lexa wanted to follow in her moms footsteps?" You don't want to pry but sometimes Lexa chooses to kiss you rather than talk about her future and while that's fun, it doesn't answer all of your questions.

"Like I said it's just a rumor."

Wells sounds like he knows more than he's letting on but you don't take him to be a liar and you think, more than likely, he's overheard one too many conversations that parishioners have had with his father. Still, while you're not sure if Nyko is the best thing for Lexa since she's so young you can't help but smile at the opportunities it could bring. 

Like a career outside of politics.

Like getting out of Polis like she's always wanted.

\--

You're not sure if you're imagining it but when all three siblings turn to walk back to the car Anya meets your gaze with a look that scares the shit out of you.

You know you're not imagining it when Lexa hits her arm with an embarrassed noise and Lincoln glances across, only to laugh loudly. 

Without a doubt she's worth it but, God, are her family absolutely terrifying. 

\--

"So how much do Anya and Lincoln know about us?" 

Lexa is playing with your pencils as you finish up a project for your teacher. You'd finished all of your other assignments and, as always, you'd left your art until last because it gave you something to look forward to and actually enjoy. It's nothing exciting; the big projects, the ones that you focus on for a long time, will come next year and this is simply a study of light. It's fairly easy and you choose a bunch of objects, people and animals to scatter across a few pages and draw. It means you can work and pay attention to Lexa and you like it; you like how soft everything feels and how she compliments each finished drawing and how she'd grown bored and started doodling herself.

Her pictures are  _okay_ and you're kind of glad you have found something that she can't do. 

(You kind of wish she was worse at it though because  _damn it,_ did she even have flaws?)

"Everything," she shrugs, adding too much shade to a picture of what you think is a house. Or a box. "Or, at least as much as I'm willing to tell them. Anya wants to know if you're a good kisser but I stopped answering there." 

You laugh at that because she's smirking, which means she's teasing, and you glow inside. You're so proud of her for telling at least one person about the two of you, but for her to have told both of her siblings? It's amazing to you. "You should have told her I'm the best you've ever had," you reply and she glances at you with an amused look before you carry on. "Because I was just wondering. It looked like she wanted to kill me today." 

"She does," Lexa says and you wait for the punchline, but it never comes.

"Lexa."

"What?"

You sigh at that because sometimes she forgets to pick up on your hints and you have to elaborate further. "What do you mean she wants to kill me?

It takes Lexa a few more seconds--she's very intent with her picture of what you now know is a house--before she looks at you. "You're dating me," she says casually and your heart thumps and your mind races and suddenly you can't fucking breathe. "So now she automatically thinks you're not good enough. Don't worry about her, she'll keep it a secret from my parents but she'll probably glare a lot. Are you okay?"

_No._

_Yes._

"Dating?" Is all you can think to say and you wish you hadn't because you can see the shutters begin to come down right in front of you and you panic. "You told her we were dating?"

"I..." She trails off, her cheeks red and her eyes focusing everywhere else around the river but you. "Not...I mean. I told her I was  _with_ you and that you're important to me. Did I overstep?" 

She looks so fucking distraught that you can't help it when you throw your things to the side and push the sketchbook from her lap. There's no time for her to protest when you swing your leg over hers and straddle her in a panic to stop her from bolting. Your arms encircle the girl and pull her into an embrace that you didn't know you even needed before her arms wrapped around your waist. 

"No, you didn't," you rush to assure her and she breathes out in relief. "I didn't know what we were calling us. I haven't put a label on it yet because I thought you were scared."

Lexa laughs at that and when you pull back to look at her you fail because she's leaning up and pressing her lips to yours. "I am scared. You terrify me, Clarke," she whispers and you can't help but laugh too. How does she manage to do this to you each time? Surprise you. Scare you. Make you fall deeper into a feeling you're unsure exists unless you're with her. "I should have spoken to you about it first, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you hum, your lips grazing hers gently. "I like that you're telling people we're dating. It means you're not as against us as I sometimes think you are..."

You're aware you probably shouldn't have said that when Lexa looks at you with big eyes but you're still a little bothered over the situation despite completely forgiving her. Truthfully you're pretty much over it, despite the embarrassment, but she also needs to know that she can't just pick and choose when she wants to be around you; no matter what she thinks is the right thing. There needs to be boundaries or at least a conversation about this. You both need to know what's acceptable; and hearing that you're nothing,  _nobody,_ to Lexa just isn't high on your list of things you're willing to hear. For her you'll lie about the nature of your relationship, of course you will because you want her to be safe, but you're not going to let her just push you away.

(Mostly because you're terrified that if she pushes hard enough she won't find the strength to pull you back.

You don't know if you're ready to be alone now you know what it's like to have her.)

"I'm sorry. I panicked, Clarke. I didn't know what to say," she whispers and you play with the little hairs on the back of her neck to wordlessly reassure her that you're not leaving her. "Mrs. Vie knows my mom on a more personal level and I didn't want her to say anything."

"I thought you said your mom was okay with your sexuality," you ask, simply because you need to understand her train of thought. She's so hard to get a read on most of the time and you need to understand her actions because not knowing will drive you crazy, you know that. "Does it really matter if she finds out we were walking along the damn sidewalk together? Walking doesn't equate to fucking, no matter how skewed your vision is."

Lexa swallows and you watch her jaw tighten, her teeth clenching together in a move that both turns you on and annoys you. You know she does it when she's cornered and pissed off but you're not putting this off any longer. As a couple you're getting better but that doesn't mean your weak points don't need addressing, especially when your weak points cause nights of failed sleep and missed phone calls.

"I promised her I wouldn't do anything that could have a negative effect on her campaign," she says softly and your heart physically aches for this girl. Because what kind of mother would say something like that? What kind of mother would force her daughter to hide so blatantly in plain sight when she can see what it's doing to her? "It's just until college or she steps down. She saw the crappy attention having a gay daughter had when Costia and I were exposed; it wouldn't be fair to throw that at her again. We cleaned it up last time --"

"There's nothing to clean up!" You can't help it, you snap. This internalized fear, this homophobic language, it's killing you. She's a good person, an  _amazing_ person, and you can't stand to listen to her talk about herself like this when you know how soft her lips are and what she sounds like when she's really laughing. "Lexa, there's nothing wrong with you. With us."

"You don't understand, Clarke. It's easier for you."

And you knew,  _you knew,_ this was going to be an issue. You had called it weeks ago.

"It's not easier for me," you grunt before you push yourself off of her and stand in front of her. She looks small in front of you and she seems to feel it too because she stands up, bringing herself to full height. You kind of hate that she reverts of 'Polis Lexa' during an argument but you also like it because you can get mad at this Lexa, you can shout and be hurt. Soft Lexa, _your Lexa,_ makes it harder. "This isn't easy for me. You, of all people, know how scary it is when these new feelings start. I was with Finn, I had boyfriends, and then I came here and suddenly I'm feeling things for girls, for  _you,_ and it's scary." 

She scoffs, "I didn't turn you gay, Clarke. Despite what this town thinks it isn't actually possible."

Honestly you can't believe that even came out of her mouth and she looks just as shocked, just as wounded, as you do that she would even think it. It takes you a few seconds to even compose yourself enough to think of a logical answer that won't pin the blame on either of you. This was supposed to be a nice Sunday, it was one of your Sunday's, and you can't believe this is where you are. 

"I never even said that," you throw back in a petulant tone but you mean it. "I'm still coming to terms with who I am, Lexa. Just because my dad and Raven are okay with it doesn't mean my mom, or my grandparents, or my friends are going to be okay with it too. This is just as difficult for me as it is for you, okay? Stop acting like you're the only one dealing with all of this."

She crosses her arms and pouts in a way that makes her look like a toddler and if you weren't so angry right now you would find it cute. Her eyes are bright when they look at you but you hold firm; unwilling to let her get away with playing the martyr in your relationship and throwing blame when things get hard just because she looks like she's going to cry.

"I'm not acting like anything," Lexa murmurs and you narrow your eyes because, really, was she listening to anything you said? "I promised my mom I wouldn't do anything that might upset her career again. You'd think having a daughter in the community would help her but it didn't. They took that, and the fact me and Anya aren't hers, and ran wild with it. They nearly ruined her and I'm not letting that happen again. They know I'm gay but..."

You roll your eyes a little. "But as long as you don't throw it in their faces it's okay, right?" 

"Yeah," she replies and looks at you with those eyes again, the ones that can break you so easily. "You mean a lot to me, Clarke. But my mom means a lot to me too, this town means a lot to us as a family, and we'll do what it takes to ensure their happiness."

"Even if it means making you miserable?"

She looks torn at that but you stay in place. "I promise I'll try my best to make sure I never make you feel like that again," she says and you want to believe her, you really do. "Once I'm out of this town it'll be okay. I know it will. Costia used to say that to me all the time and I know she's right."

"And what about what your mom wants for you? Your career?" Lexa looks at you and you know you've hit a nerve. You try and ignore how she's mentioned Costia's name so fondly and you push down the slight jealousy you feel. You wonder if, when she says your name, if she sounds like that too. "You can't hide forever just because your mom thinks you'd make a good politician. We live once, Lexa. It has to be the best life we can make it."

"There are other avenues available," she says quietly and you flash back to Nyko, and his suit, and his offers. If she likes the work then you don't want to stand in her way but you wish, you hope and pray, that she'll say no. Because you don't want her to live a life by serving other people and their needs; putting their wants and desires in front of her own. "Just please trust me. This town can be ruthless and I don't want that for you."

"I can handle myself," you bristle. 

She smiles at that before stepping forward, her face serious. "I know you can, I have no doubts at all that you're the type of person to stand firm when they believe in something," and you let her take your hands when she reaches out. "But this town gossips; they make everything about them and act like they have a say in your life. Do you really want your mom to find out what we've been doing just because Mr. Miller thinks it's okay to tell her that he saw us in the diner together?" 

You want to give her everything she desires, you realise, and you know you're going to give in and keep this a secret.

Just for a little while longer.

"No," you concede. "But I am going to tell her when I'm ready, Lexa. I won't mention us but I don't want to keep lying to her about who I really am."

"That's fair," Lexa nods and you fall into her arms, already missing her warmth. "We need to think of a reason people may see us together. It'll make it easier if something like this happens again."

You nod, your fingers digging into her hips, and you pull back enough to press a kiss against her jaw. "Later," you hum and she turns to look at you in confusion. "I have to be home in less than two hours and you've upset me. Time to make up for it."

When she kisses you, you can taste her laugh and it might not make everything better but it's certainly a start.

\--

 

Between kisses you come up with a plan and, as you walk home with your art on your shoulder and Lexa's lipgloss on your mouth, you pray to God it'll work.

It's on a nondescript Tuesday that you set your plan into motion. You mention that you're struggling with Math this year, that it isn't coming as easily to you as it once was and you watch the panic drift over your moms face in perfectly timed precision. It kind of makes you sick that your mom has this obsessive notion that you're perfect, that you'll always be perfect, but it works and suddenly you're talking about tutors and when you mention Anya Woods you feel your heart jolt in excitement.

Lexa is currently somewhere convincing her sister to cover for her and even if she says no at first, Lexa says she'll eventually give in because her sister loves her.

"Anya Woods, isn't that the mayor's daughter?" Your mom asks and you nod slowly as you actively avoid your fathers gaze, hoping he doesn't see right through you. "What does she know about high school math? I heard she dropped out once the baby came." 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and simply shrug instead. "She finished up at Polis Academy but didn't go to college," you say quietly. 

"Seems like having her wouldn't benefit you much," she sniffs and you tighten the hold you have on your fork. "Jake, we could find someone more suitable couldn't we? With qualifications."

You're looking at your plate and hoping, honestly hoping, that they'll just trust you to find your own tutor when your dad reminds you of exactly why you love him. "I think we should be Anya a chance," he starts and you look up far too quickly to not look interested and he chews at his food for a long few seconds as a way of not smiling in amusement. "She's come into the shop a few times. She's very intelligent, all of those children are." 

"I see," you mom says and she looks about a second away from leaving the table simply for being corrected. "We can talk about it, Clarke. In the meantime your father and I can help you with your homework. I don't want you to fall behind."

And that's that.

But you can't stop the smile and when your father hugs you before you go to bed that night you wish that you could be the daughter he deserves.

**JUNE.**

**41.**

Raven and Bellamy begin making noises about their 'graduation' parties over the next few days and you have to admit you're a little excited about it. You know Raven is off to study some kind of astrophysics that you don't understand but had made Lexa smile widely and you know that Bellamy wants to be a history professor at Polis State University so he's working on that. You like that they both have plans for their lives, plans that they actually want to work on, and it makes you a little jealous. You remember telling Lexa months and months ago that you wanted to be a teacher too but even that wasn't certain; you just like the thought of melding young minds, of helping to shape the future. 

Raven and Bellamy both know what they want to do and you wish you knew how that felt but, you think, you have a little longer to think about it.

College is expensive and you don't want to be  _that_ person. You don't want to drop out of flunk or mess people around.

Lexa says you have a strong heart and she tells you  that when you decide what you want to do you'll feel it deeply. 

\--

"Raven is having a party," you tell Lexa as you sit in her car and you watch as she punches something into her GPS, only half paying attention to you and she mumbles something so you decide to keep talking until she listens fully. "Well her and Bellamy are sharing it and they invited me to go. You should think about coming."

She shakes her head at you and gives you a fond look, the kind that makes her eyes soft and her lips addictive and you barely hold yourself back. She'd met you outside of the library under the pretense of picking you up for another 'tutoring session' with Anya but you knew she had other plans when she pulled away and asked you to fish out her GPS from under your chair. You smile to yourself because your mother agreed and Anya agreed and now you can see Lexa every Wednesday and Thursday night  _and_ on your usual Sunday.

You haven't had chance yet but Anya mentioned that she'd be more comfortable conducting it at home when she spoke to your mom and you know she did that for you. Despite how scary she is you kind of love her right now.

"I'm not going to go to that," she says primly before she pulls away once again from where she'd stopped the car and you chew on your lip for a few seconds, only sated when she reaches across and puts her hand on your thigh. "Even if I wanted to Lincoln is having his own graduation party soon and I'll be attending that, no doubt."

You stare at the hand on your thigh for a few long seconds, her fingers touching bare skin where your skirt doesn't quite reach, and you swallow hard. "I think your party and Raven's party are going to be very different," you breathe out and, somehow, work up the courage to place your hand over hers so she's touching you far more firmly. Why it makes you nervous you don't know, you've literally swallowed this girls moans as you run your hands over her bare stomach, but this feels more intimate.

More domestic. 

"Probably," she replies through a smile and you can hear the teasing lilt, the tone making your stomach tighten a little but you smile back casually. "Will I need to be on call again?"

"Yes," you mimic and she glances at you once but keeps her attention on the road. It's a little habit of hers you love; she won't let her attention falter even for a second, even if you're at a stop light. You'd noticed it when she'd taken you to the little market all those months ago and you notice her doing it now which only causes your heart to swell with her name more and more. "But only because I can't stop thinking about you when we're not together and drunk me is sort of needy."

She laughs at that and it's more beautiful than every other time you've made her laugh. It's just gets better and better.

"I'll be on alert for your call," is all she says and you settle back, your fingers happily playing with hers.

\--

Lexa takes you to TonDC, a city just outside of Polis, and you light up a little at getting to spend the day with her somewhere new. She parks in a lot that is probably too expensive but she waves it off and you feel an emotion cloud your chest when you both step out of the car and she walks around, clearly gathering herself, before she laces her fingers with yours. 

You're in the open.

There are people around.

And she's holding your hand. 

"I know I promised you a date and this isn't the special or even as much as you deserve but I thought, maybe, we could spend the day just being  _us._ Together. And later we'll go for a meal," she rambles but you stop her because, honestly, just hanging by the river is enough for you. You kiss her firmly and even though her lips are soft in winter they're even softer in the summer and you let out a soft noise at how nice it feels. "And I uh, I thought it would be a change for us. To actually act like a couple." 

She looks completely dazed by your kiss and you wriggle with pride, pressing another kiss to her lips. "It's fine, Lexa," you promise her and she starts looking more confident about the thrown together plan. "I like being with you."

"I like being with you too."

\--

You spend the day shopping with her; together you look at clothes, jewelry, movies. It's simple for others and you're kind of embarrassed that this means so much to you but you're not going to say anything or cause any arguments. You hate that you have to drive an hour out of town--it blows your mind you can have this with her only  _an hour_ away-but you'll take it because it feels so good, because she's worth it. It takes her a little while to become comfortable but after a few stores she begins to relax and she moves closer to you, her thumb running over your knuckles, and you wonder how long it's going to take before you'll get this everyday. 

"Do you think we'll be able to convince my mom that I fell asleep during one of my tutoring sessions and I have to stay over at yours?" 

Lexa laughs to herself a little and turns to you to hand you a tub of ice-cream, a glint in her eyes that's equal parts attractive and frustrating. It makes you want to kiss her but then everything makes you want to kiss her and so you accept the ice-cream, deliberately taking your time slipping the spoon into your mouth with an innocent smile as you wait for her reply.

"Don't do that," she murmurs, her fingers curling around your wrist to take the spoon from your mouth. You smile wider than you have in a long time and it's because of her, it's always because of her. "And I doubt she's going to agree when the towns notorious lesbian lives there. I could pounce on you while you sleep, don't you know?"

"I wish," you grin and you don't miss the way she groans at you in annoyance. You walk away from the stand and around the park slowly with her, both of you quietly eating your cold treat and you sigh happily each time you feel her brush against you. Lexa pulls her sunglasses back over her eyes and you smirk to yourself because she looks so insanely attractive that you can't believe she's yours, that you can kiss her. "We should try though."

"I don't want to say no," she starts and you grunt slightly before looping your arm through hers, tugging her closer to get her to stop. "Clarke, I just don't want to push it."

You pout at her a little, bringing her to a stop, before turning to look at her. "Just pretend for today, okay? Pretend I can stay over and I can spend the night kissing you and then wake up next to you," you murmur and she breathes deeply, clearly imagining it. "It can happen. It will happen. And this is our day, you've planned this, so let's not act like it's not going to happen."

"Okay," she smiles and you feel your entire body shiver when she leans in to kiss you.

Her lips are on yours and people are walking past you and it feels so normal.

It feels like it should. 

\--

"You didn't have to pay, you know?" You're buckling yourself into the car, belly full, and she shakes her head before leaning over to kiss you quickly. Part of it is to make you shut up, you know that, but she also tastes perfect and you're not going to pretend that you don't like it. You wait until she pulls away enough to change angle you murmur, "I'm paying next time."

"Fine," she nods quickly, eager to kiss you again and you laugh into her mouth.

She's so different with you, she's so different when you're like this, and you can't get enough.

You know what happened a few weeks ago shook you both up but things are changing, they're getting better, and you cannot wait to spend the summer with her getting stronger and stronger.

\--

Lexa drops you off outside your house for the first time ever but you don't linger. The story is that you're getting tutored by Anya and Lexa just happens to be your lift so you look at her for a few seconds, hoping it'll last longer, and then quickly get out of the car. You can feel her eyes on you as you make your way up your path but you don't look back, not when your mom opens the door to watch you both. Her eyes glance to the car and a protective urge takes over, a powerful feeling that Lexa doesn't deserve to be looked at like that, and you step in front of her.

"How was tutoring?"

"Fine," you say, bringing her attention to you but she doesn't look away until Lexa drives away. Even then she stays at the door a little longer and she only closes it once you're safely inside and Lexa's car can't be seen anymore. "Numbers make my head hurt."

You're taking off your coat as she follows you and you're glad you have your back to her because your lips are still swollen and you're sure there's a blush all the way down to your chest with how happy you are. She's closer than you were expecting her to be when she speaks again and you jump slightly as she puts a soft hand on your shoulder. "Yes, but it'll be worth it."

"She said she'll help with my history report too," you reply and wriggle from under her touch slightly but you make sure to send her a soft smile so she doesn't start questioning you. The idea of your moms hand on you after having Lexa's all over you only a few hours ago is too much. "She's really smart."

"Good," your mom crosses her arms and you swallow thickly, desperate to go to your room. "I thought Anya would bring you back."

"She was looking after Aden."

"And her brother? Lincoln?"

"Out with Octavia," you know you sound irritated and you don't try to hide it. By the time you turn and meet your moms eyes she looks just as annoyed as you feel but she tries to soften it. You see through her. "Does it matter?"

"I just don't want you hanging around with Lexa. I've heard some things."

_Things._

God, you can't even look at her. 

"Right. Can I go in now? I have a headache."

She doesn't reply but she moves aside to let you past but the scowl on her face doesn't disappear even as you walk up the stairs and shut the door to your room.

**42.**

"Mom, I like girls," your eyes widen as you look at your reflection, clearly noting the fear on your own face, and you shake your head at yourself. "Mom, I need to tell you something important. I mean it isn't  _super_ important and it isn't going to change anything because I'm still me."

A chuckle takes your attention away from your terrified expression and you turn around to look at your dad, his face crinkling in amusement and your eyes follow the lines on his face as you try and work out how to explain what you're doing. You know it's obvious what you're doing but you feel kind of idiotic having to explain it to your dad who had taken it so easily. 

"Kid, you need to breathe," he tells you and you nod quietly as you pick at your cuticles. "She isn't going to stop loving you, you know?"

For once you disagree with him and inhale deeply, "I don't know that." 

"Clarke," he growls deeply and walks into your room. You let him because you always have, he's your dad, but you don't make any steps to move closer to him. "She's your mother, okay? You didn't see the way she looked at you when you were born, baby. Like you couldn't ever do anything wrong. Like you were perfect. And, Clarke, she was right. You are perfect and you've never done anything wrong."

"Not until I kissed Lexa," you mutter and he steps closer to nudge your shoulder, just enough that you look up at him. "Dad --" 

He rolls his eyes fondly and his large hand squeezes at your shoulder. "She's always going to love you, Clarke."

"Yeah but she isn't going to like me, is she?"

Instead of replying he hugs you and you have your answer.

\--

Sunday comes and you spend it with Lexa pressed into your side tightly; her arm around your shoulders as you eat a small meal she'd prepared before church. Wednesday and Thursday were as wonderful as you were expecting them to be; you spent both in Lexa's room, watching movies and learning the curves of her body. But Sunday was yours, Sunday's have always been yours, and you smile as the images flow through you. 

"What are you thinking about?" 

You take a second before you reply, slowly eating a cherry she'd packed to waste a little time, and you think of a polite way to word that you were imagining how easy it had been to get her to take her shirt off when you were alone in her room. You're aware that the both of you want to go further than your heated make out sessions but you're working on it. You have such limited time as it is and you don't want to startle her too much or do anything that will make her close up again.

Still, you're determined for her to know how much you want her. 

"Kissing you," is all you say and you feel her shift from next to you, the arm around your shoulders slipping away until her hand is on the back of your neck. "Touching you."

She presses a kiss below your ear, "Clarke."

"I know," you reply but you turn your head to kiss her anyway. It's getting harder to be near her and  _not_ kiss her, it's getting harder to not want her. She's so pretty and talented and intelligent and it drives something dark inside of you that makes your nails dig into your palm if you ever see her on the street or in church. Her tongue brushes against yours and your entire body tenses, especially when you feel her hand tighten at the back of your neck, and you press even closer to her to kiss her deeper. 

You hadn't particularly been planning on doing much more than kissing her when you'd turned to her but she's pushing against you and you let her lead you onto your back, her body laid next to yours on the blanket she'd thrown down to make the little stones that tiny bit more bearable to sit on. She's hot against the entirety of your right side and her fingers are tracing patterns against your neck; you can feel the breeze from the river and hear the sounds of animals as they rush through the grass but all you can experience is her. She's in your mouth, against your skin, and you congratulate yourself at saying those four words that seemed to weaken her. 

Your own hand moves down to her thigh and you drag your fingertips up to hook into the waistband of her jeans. The pads of your fingers are just barely pressing against her skin but she reacts quickly to it, her hips rolling against you, and you moan loudly into her mouth. You've had sex, you did it with Finn, but you had never made  _noise_ before and it shocks you enough to pull back. 

While your hand has found purchase at the band of her jeans, hers has begun a track up the back of your shirt, and she looks at you when you pull away with wide eyes. "Too much?" 

"Not enough."

She looks at you for a few seconds, enough to make you squirm, before she nods too. "Soon," she promises, bringing her lips back to yours. 

(You think later, sated and warm and naked next to the woman you love, that you don't know how you ever survived until 'soon'. You wonder how you didn't die of want right there.) 

\--

With the excuse that you were going to the Woods' mansion for a tutoring session, Lexa lets you walk with her into the town but you keep a respectable distance and you tamper back the smiles that she encourages out of you. As you walk along the main street you do notice her getting a few second glances but they're less judgmental than you think she's probably expecting and it serves to remind you of who she is. People know who she is. They spoke about her over their dinner, called her names behind closed doors, ushered their daughters away from her while shopping like she was some kind of disease that would infect all females under the age of twenty. 

It makes you want to scoff because you know your mom attends little charity dinners with the wives of rich men; dinners that claim equality for all races and charities for struggling youths. The irony makes you sick. These were the same women that would send plastic smiles to Indra and mention things like 'phases' and 'teenagers begging for attention'. While you've been outside of the church doors you've heard them mention, because of their daytime TV degree in Psychology, that sometimes an absent mother can lead to "lesbian activity" as an outlet of finding a female figure in their lives. It makes you laugh harder because you know that your mom had agreed with things they were saying and you're sure she spends more time at the hospital than she does at home; maybe those Real Housewives have a point. 

"You're thinking again," Lexa says as you stroll towards the diner and you glance at her to note that she's pretending to play on her phone, pretending you don't exist to the watchful eyes surrounding you both. "What's wrong, Clarke? Did I do something wrong?"

You think about how her moans tasted next to the river, how soft the skin at the small of her back is, and you shake your head. The afternoon has been perfect and she knows that. "I just wish I could hold your hand," you admit and she falters in the fake text she's sending, her breath catching emotionally in her throat. "I kind of hate this sometimes."

"I hate it too," she promises and you believe her. "Believe me, I would do so much more than just hold your hand if I could but my mom --"

"You don't want to disappoint her again. I get it," you snap and then furrow almost immediately. You didn't mean to get angry; you've spoken about this. Lexa cares so much about everyone else that she's willing to put what she feels, who she is, on the back burner while she watches them flourish. "She's your mom. You shouldn't ever be able to disappoint her." 

She looks at you and her gaze is heated but not unkind. "How proud would your mom be if you told her you've seen the town lesbian without a shirt on?" 

You're kind of take aback by her honest words (and the fact she's admitted such things out-loud) that you can't do much more than laugh in shock. She looks at you for a long moment, like she wants to be annoyed, but a beautiful smile breaks across her lips and she rolls her eyes fondly at you instead. Rather than replying--since you're not sure you can now that  _those_ images are in your mind--you let her lead you towards the diner. 

It's only one more year, you think. One more year and you can tell the world how amazing this girl makes you feel.

\--

"How soon is soon?" You ask before you leave the diner and Lexa blushes like she's never seen a girl naked before. You know she has and it makes something grow inside of you, something that screams you need to prove you're the last girl that she'll ever see naked, but you don't word that. Not yet. Truth is you're kind of scared and you shake uncontrollably when you think about doing much more than seeing her in her underwear but you've made a promise to yourself to let her know how amazing she is and you're going to stick to it. "Because I know slow and steady might win the race but I've never been huge on competition."

Lexa laughs in delight and hushes you when Gustus turns to see what the noise is about. "Soon," is all she comes back to you with, her eyebrows high in her hairline, and you let it go because you're late and you don't want to push your mom too much by staying longer than necessary. But you're also getting somewhere with this conversation and you feel comfortable that you're hidden away from sight so you move closer and thread your fingers into the loops of her jeans. "I want to do this right."

"And I've wanted you for  _months,"_ you groan out to her delight. Her smile is wide but you miss most of it as she hides her lips away against the jut of your jaw, tongue flicking against the hollow where it meets your neck and you gasp at the same time that you pull your hips together. You're not sure what's come over you today; you've wanted her for a while, that's true, but it's getting harder and harder to ignore now that it seems your making progress with her family and yours. You try again but you have to clear your throat twice before you can whisper without your confession getting caught on your tongue, "It's going to be right because it's going to be with you."

Lexa smiles at you and you kind of hate how giddy it makes you feel because you're trying to be seductive, damn it. "Clarke, it's going to happen," she assures lowly and her own hands move to run up your sides, just high enough for her fingertips to bump your bra strap under the thin shirt you're wearing. "I don't want to plan it because that's ridiculous but I do want it to be right. I'll be the first girl that you've been..." Lexa flushes and it's so attractive that you feel dizzy for a second; you pull her closer just in case you fall. "Well, the first girl you'll have been intimate with. I want it to be right for you." 

"It will be," you say and lift one hand to cup her cheek softly. You don't even stop yourself from leaning in and pressing a long kiss against her lips; neither of you move to deepen it or make it any more heated. You're both kissing because you want to kiss and it hammers something hard inside your chest. "God, I don't want to go home." 

"Mm, I don't want you to go but you need to," she replies back, rocking the two of you gently to a song that seem to only play in her head. You move with her because you like the feeling of being pressed against her and you fall into her a little more when her arms move to wrap around your neck and you kiss her once more before you lay your head against her shoulder, burying your face into her neck. "I don't want your mom to send out a search party because she thinks you've be lured to the dark side." 

You kiss her neck because you can and because you know she likes it before you pull away, eyes bright. "Okay, Obi-Wan. But you need to know I'd much rather be here with you discussing all of the things our future selves are going to do."

"I'd rather that too," she humors you but you can tell with the way she holds herself and the way she bites her lip that she's just trying to be  _good_ for you. 

And, damn it, that just makes the whole thing harder.

\--

When you finally leave your legs are shaking and your pulse is strong and you wish, wish, wish, that your mom disliked your rebellious moments just enough to not care where you were for one night. 

**43.**

You know that you shouldn't be surprised when it happens but it hurts so much that you don't know where to look, or what to do, and all you know is that you need Lexa and you need her now. You need those soft arms around you; the same ones that make you feel strong and brave and protected all at the same time. You need her lips; soothing and quieting and that know how to settle storms your mother rages inside of you. 

But you're at lunch with your mother and her friends. Your Sunday with Lexa has been cut short but she smiles shyly at you when you had mentioned you couldn't meet her after church and she teased that she may actually get some of her exercise done with you gone. She's trying to be strong for you both, trying to act like keeping how much you care for one another a secret isn't a painful punch everyday, and you wish she was here now. 

"I just worry," Abby continues and you watch as the white wine the ladies are sharing begins to dwindle and you're sure the waiter will bring them another one soon. Octavia is sat across from you with her mom and she looks just as bored at the conversation as you but you can't find it in you to hold her in conversation, not when you know how she feels about your Lexa. "Clarke, here, has been struggling with her work and Anya Woods offered to help. I didn't even know the girl was proficient in those types of studies after --"

She trails off and the other women murmur and nod and it makes you sick. 

Anya is nice enough, you think. She barely talks to you and you're pretty sure that she shut a door in your face when you were walking behind her into the kitchen once but she's nice and she's a wonderful mother. Lexa loves her and you care for Lexa -- and she's keeping your secret. You like her. 

"I don't understand why she never went to college. I know lots of single mothers who kept up their studies after giving birth," someone says and you frown into your salad. How are these grown ass women able to justify what they're doing? They're  _bitching_ about a young mom like it is any of their damn business and you hold your fork tighter, hoping for a text from Lexa or any type of reprieve. "It's just lazy to ignore an education just because you have a mother to fall back on financially. She should have stayed with the babies father if that was all she was willing to become."

You wait for your mom to correct them; she knows Anya finished up her studies, she knows it because you talked about it when you told her about having her as a mentor.

She doesn't. 

"Well Indra seems to be happy enough picking up the slack for her children, doesn't she? First Anya and her child and then Lincoln with his problems," Aurora starts and you watch as Octavia grimaces into her water. Good, you think. But then you pause. You wonder if Octavia has had issues with this town too; being in a relationship with a man of colour, being in a relationship with an ex drug user. You don't speak to her enough to know the full truth but you have an idea that maybe it isn't as easy for Octavia as she makes it out, especially when her mom casts a look towards her daughter. "And God knows how much she had to work after Lexa had her little phase."

_Fuck. Them._

"I don't think it was a phase, mom," Octavia interrupts and you fail to hide your shock at the girl sticking up for someone that she so obviously hates. "She's just gay." 

" _Just gay,"_ another woman murmurs and you don't have to look away from Octavia to know the woman is rolling her eyes. When the girl finally looks at you she looks conflicted and scared, like there's something she wants to say, but she keeps her mouth shut under your curious gaze. "She made a bad choice, Octavia darling, one that almost cost her mother her votes. For the life of me I don't understand why she would stop to such a low level of disrespect." 

You feel yourself shaking with anger and you want to leave, you want to get up and scream and cry but you know you can't. You know you can't bring that on to Lexa when she's so desperate to be  _good_ for everyone.

You wonder if she knows exactly what it is that they say.

"She had a choice to do the right thing and she chose to be frivolous and throw it all around town," Abby pipes up and you swallow down a sick feeling. Your mom wasn't even there when it all happened; why does she think she can say anything? Why do any of them think they can talk like this about a teenaged girl while drinking wine and eating overpriced salads? It's the middle of the afternoon and you're all sat outside in the nice weather. It's so absurd that it makes you want to throw up. "Frankly it's rude to Indra. Can you imagine her embarrassment? Poor woman." 

"Like she doesn't have enough to deal with," the dark-haired woman next to your mom says, flicking her fingers with disinterest. "Anya and Lincoln were one thing but to be told your daughter thinks she's gay in this day and age, when there are so many eligible gentlemen out there, is astounding. I don't know what the girl was thinking."

You've had enough. "She probably was hoping her mom would still love her even though she's gay," you shrug and stab at a tomato on your plate. "She was probably hoping that Indra would understand she didn't want to end up with an 'eligible gentleman' and would rather be with someone she loves."

"Oh come now," Octavia's mom laughs and you see Octavia send you a helpless look. She looks almost sorry and that confuses you more. "Experimenting with women is one thing but it's not going to give her a future, is it? Remember in 2003 when Angelina Jolie mentioned she was bisexual. She gave herself some ridiculous label but she still ended up with a lovely man and all of those sweet children, it was a waste of her time and nothing more than media fodder. These phases grow out eventually once they realise it's not getting them any attention. There's no reason to flaunt something like that just to check for a mothers love."

You excuse yourself to the bathroom but another bottle of wine has been placed on the table and their raucous laughter drowns your words.

\--

**Clarke Griffin:**  
I know you're probably in the middle  
of some crazy run right now but I just  
want you to know that I wish I was with  
you right now.

  
**Clarke Griffin:**  
I'll see you in a few hours so I know how  
lame I'm being. Don't worry.

**Clarke Griffin:  
** I miss you.

\--

Octavia is outside of the restroom when you come out and you greet her with a cold look; as cold as you can when you're very aware of the red rings around your eyes and the shaking in your fingers. She looks sad and guilty and it's just enough to stop you in your tracks for a few moments, long enough for her to open her mouth.

"My mom doesn't believe most of the stuff she's saying," Octavia says and a heat flares behind your eyes as you remember the dismissive way she'd thrown your sexuality around. You know nobody knows how you identify--Hell, you don't know what you identify as beyond bisexual--but that doesn't stop the hurt at how your mother had laughed and how sexuality was seen as nothing more than a device to annoy others. You glare at Octavia long enough for your chin to quiver and she sighs softly, enough for you to shake your head and turn back into the restroom. 

She's seconds behind you and you hear the door lock just as you place your wrists under the cold tap.

She isn't going to see you cry. None of them are. 

"What do you  _want,_ Blake?" Truthfully you don't care that she flinches and looks nothing like the mean, brooding, bitch of a girl that you first met. You remind yourself of the way she speaks to Lexa, your sweet Lexa, and you bring that anger forth so that she doesn't see you weak and sad and hoping that your mother is going to love you in a year. 

She doesn't say anything for a short minute and you're about to give up before she steps forward, hands out like a peace offering. "I'm Bellamy's little sister," she starts and you clench your teeth so tightly that little dots of white begin to pop in your peripheral vision. You don't know what she thinks she's trying to start but you're not above punching a girl in a restroom because she trash-talked the girl you're falling for. "That's all I am, Clarke. I smoke, I drink, I fuck a guy older than me who has been hooked on drugs and I'm still Bellamy's little sister --"

"Good to know you think so highly of Lincoln there," you scoff and move your hands from the freezing stream of water now that you don't feel so close to tears.

"Shut up," she snaps and you do but not because she said so but because she looks so...young. So scared. "I've done everything I can to be noticed by my mom, okay? And she doesn't care. As long as I toe the line and don't deviate from her plans then it's okay. When our dad bailed Bellamy became the man of the house and what he said went. If he told me to jump I just did it, I didn't ask how high. I don't know you but I know you have no idea how that feels -- to be nothing more than a sideshow to the main event."

You sigh, annoyed. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Sometimes to make it easier on ourselves we become people that we don't like," she breathes out and you let yourself listen to her this time, softening slightly. She looks down and says something to herself that you're sure you're not supposed to hear.  _'Who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things,'_ and she looks up at you. "My brother says that sometimes. He knows what this town is like and he knows it'll tear a person apart before asking questions. We all have secrets that could ruin us if people found out and when Lexa exposed hers it was easier to tear her apart than it was to face our own issues and I get that's wrong but it's what happened."

Fuck, you think you're going to cry again and you hate it. Because you can picture in your mind how it happened. Lexa standing outside the church, a beautiful girl in her arms, all of the points and the jeers from those inside who claimed to love her. The harsh words and the insults thrown at her to disguise their own personal issues. The fact she let them so that they wouldn't tear themselves apart.

Stupid Lexa.

Stupid, brave, courageous, idiotic Lexa. 

"It doesn't excuse the way you, and everyone else, treat her," you say, surprised at how soft your voice is. "She's just a girl and this place has broken her. Nobody her age should hold such responsibility." 

"I know that," Octavia nods, her fingers twisting between each other, and she clenches her jaw tightly like it pains her to think about. "Sometimes when my mom would say something everyone would laugh and I'd join in and she'd smile at me, she'd pay attention to me. It spiraled from there. And then when Lexa said it was her fault for Lincoln using it was like she was asking to take the bullet. I blamed her and it was wrong, I know."

This Octavia is one you can handle, you think, but you can't trust her. Not yet.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

Octavia winces a little before looking at you fully. "Raven mentioned to me that I was being a bitch," she says gently, like she's thought it over, and she bites at her lip. "And so did Lincoln. He said that he couldn't keep letting me trash his sister the way that I did, said that he saw it through another perspective and that something needed to change. He was right. Lexa, she's done nothing to me except be the silent girl when I've needed someone to blame or throw under the bus when I wanted the attention away from me and I'm sorry for that."

"It's not me you have to tell," you maintain. "You have to speak to her."

"I'm not her friend and I don't think we'll ever be friends," she says softly but she sounds like she knows you're right and that's enough for you for now. "But Lincoln said that she's the happiest she's ever been lately and he says it has something to do with a girl. I think I know who she is and she should know that it's going to be hard but if she thinks it's worth it then I'll stand in her corner." You look skeptical and Octavia sees this, takes it as permission to continue. "Lincoln is my family, more than my mom and Bellamy are right now. I'll do whatever I can to prove to him how much I love him, even if that means pushing people to change the way they view the world for his sister."

You're still not sure you believe her but you nod your head at her in thanks anyway. "I don't know what you want me to say," you reply honestly, kind of caught off guard and feeling slightly out of place in your church clothes. You wish Lexa was here and your fingers flex as you imagine her hand in yours. "But I'm sure Lexa will be glad of the support. Even from you."

"She's dealt with a lot," Octavia replies, ignoring the barbed comment you finished with and you smile a little at that. "But you get knocked down and you get back up, that's life."

You give her a soft smirk, "As long as you're not the one knocking her down anymore."

"I know we're not friends, Clarke, but you should know that people around here really do look up to you," she says with a gentle shrug. "You have an army behind you whether you realise it or not."

She smiles at you before she set her face, a perfect daughter back in her role, and leaves the restroom. 

You're not sure what's just happened but you think it might be the first in a long line of stepping stones to your happy ever after.

\--

**Lexa Woods:  
** I miss you too.

**Lexa Woods:  
** Come over? My mom and dad are out.

**Lexa Woods:**  
I promise I'll try and make whatever it  
is upsetting you go away.

\--

When you get to Lexa's house it's quiet and that's strange. Even though it's a big place you can usually hear Aden's cartoons playing in the hallway or music coming from Lincoln's room, usually followed by Indra yelling at him to turn it down which often goes unheard. It's a family home, despite the harsh image they portray, and when Lexa opens the door you're kind of shocked by the silence. 

"Lincoln is at some football thing and Anya has taken Aden swimming," Lexa smiles in answer, moving to the side so that you can step in but you take a few seconds to absorb her. She's so pretty, even now in a white t-shirt and grey leggings, and it only serves to make you fall for her a little more. Under your gaze she begins to squirm a little and she reaches for you, tugging you inside the house before you embarrass her more. You don't think you've ever really seen her in anything that doesn't seem to fit her body tightly and you revel in that as you dip your fingers into the tight waistband as she pulls you closer. There's a little smirk on her lips that you  _need_ to kiss off but she's too busy running her thumbs over your cheeks like you're something special. "Hi, beautiful." 

_Oh._

You can't help but giggle and press your lips to her chin, completely coy. "Hi," you whisper and you let your teeth nip at the skin of her jawline as a way of hiding how shy you feel around her most of the time. "I hate that we've lost so much of today."

"I know," she placates and drops her hands from your face to run down the length of your arms. "Just think, when we go to college we'll eventually have whole weekends to ourselves."

It's the first time Lexa's spoken about college, or your future, and your breath catches in your throat. How do you respond to that? You're desperate to know what it is that she wants to do, where she wants to go, but you also don't want to leave the warmth of her arms just to be met with cold words and gentle persuasion onto another topic. "What makes you think I'm going to college? Maybe I'm going to run to Cuba and start up my own restaurant there," you say instead and she laughs prettily before finally wrapping her arms around you, low enough that you feel the tips of her fingers against the small of your back. "Or maybe I'll go to New Orleans to become a real artist. Sell my work and make money hustling boys at poker." 

"Sounds nice," Lexa hums and you pull back enough to look at her, eyes wide and smile bright. "I'm sure I could work my magic and start playing jazz music at my lessons instead of classical. Really find a way to make us fit in."

_Us,_ sounds nice you think. 

"You'd come with me?" You ask, just because you want to hear her say it and she nods. She's soft when there's nobody around and she's too much to resist. "What about college?"

"Who needs college? Anya is always telling me I'm too smart for my own good anyway," she jokes and it's that, right there, that makes you kiss her. She's so cute and sweet that you push up on your toes and swallow her gasp before kissing her deeply, your hands clenching at the waistband of her leggings and bunching up the material in your fingers. You know that she's just teasing, that she's saying what you want to hear, but it's too much and you hope beyond hope that she wants these things with you too. "Baby," she whispers when you pull away and you groan because she's so fucking unreal that you can barely handle yourself. "What was that for?"

"For believing in us," you say and she smiles, reaching down to pull your hand away from her waist and she links her fingers with yours.

"Always."

\--

She turns to you in the dim room, some rock band you're not sure you recognise playing from her speakers, and finally breaks the silence. Your heart is still beating hard from the kisses you've shared and you can't help but stare at her pouty lips, red and wet from where you'd bitten on them earlier and the sight makes you smile. There's a second where she seems distracted by your lips and she leans in, and it looks like she isn't very aware of herself doing it, before she seems to come back to her present and it's all very cute.

"Clarke, why were you so sad earlier?"

In the light of the room she brings her voice down to a whisper but her words are harsh in your ears. You wonder what you could have said that would have prompted this reaction but it only takes a few seconds for you to remember that Lexa knows you the most, the best. She knows you more than you're willing to admit and more than she even thinks and that thought makes you want to touch her again, so you do. Without really thinking you bring your fingers to brush against her little ear, down her neck, and she shudders softly under your touch - her body still a little sensitive from the way you'd been kissing her so desperately earlier. You're sure if you turn her over there will be faint lines down her shoulder blades and you have to ignore that pang because you have to be home soon and you can't let her distract you again.

"You're so pretty," you say, just because you want to make her smile, and your heart feels lighter when it works. It's not a hard choice between kissing her and talking about why you felt like your world was shattering slowly earlier and she meets you in the middle, lips eager and slightly sore. Each time Lexa kisses you it feels like she's savoring it, like she thinks it might be the last thing she's ever going to do, and you hold that feeling in the little space between your lungs and your heart. You keep it there, safe, because you know Lexa doesn't have the words yet to admit how weak she feels around you. But you feel it regardless of her silent words. "You make everything better."

"I don't even know what's wrong," she prompts, a worried line on her brow. You soothe it away with your lips as her eyes close. "Clarke."

You shake your head at her worry. "My mom was being extra mean today," and you laugh at how childish that sounds but even to your ears you sound pained. "My mom and her friends don't think bisexuality is real. They think we're going to end up with men anyway and that you're just flaunting this 'phase' to get attention from your mom because you don't think she loves you." 

It hurts you to say that but being truthful with Lexa is always a priority.

"You and the way you feel are valid," she says strongly and you didn't know you needed to hear that until the words were out of her mouth and invading your heart. "Your sexuality is valid. Who you consent to love is valid. I promise, okay? Whether that's a man or a woman or nobody at all; how you feel about in your amazing heart is more important and it's up to you to decide that. Nobody else. Only you can feel that."

You press your fingers to her damp cheeks and open your mouth to ask why she's crying before she's cutting you off, kissing away your tears, and you take that second to work out that you're the one crying.

"I'm sorry," you whisper and she pulls back, stern.

"Never apologise for how you feel," she repeats your words back to you from months and months ago. "You are perfect and beautiful and wondrous. You make my heart race. Stay exactly as you are and don't change; they'll learn to love you."

She truly knows how to make everything seem better.

**44.**

Between the two of you you decide to not tell your mom just yet and that settles well, even with your dad. He tells you that you need to be honest but he sees your tremors when you tell him the story of what your mom said and he simply holds you until you calm down, whispering apologies that don't need to escape his mouth. 

Summer has just started for the both of you and you decide to enjoy this instead; focus on Lexa and getting a tan and the excitement of heading into your senior year before college. Your mom is already on your ass about applications but you're still unsure and kind of hoping that Lexa will run away with you, travel the world and find little cities where you can be in love and nobody cares. In an ideal world that happens but you're living in this world and, instead, you determine to focus on your girlfriend for now and the future in a few tomorrows. 

"Raven wants to know if we want to go to hers for a pool party," you say as she stands next to the waters edge, braving the cold stream as she dips her bare toes into it, and you wait patiently as she works out the pros and cons in her beautiful mind. She turns to you and you let her wait in silence, content with watching the warm sun as it casts over her features and shadows her cheekbones. She looks regal and it's so damn attractive. "Lincoln is going with Octavia."

She nods once before looking at the floor as she walks towards you. "I doubt my presence will be welcomed," she says and you wonder if she knows she changes the way she speaks when she's upset or arguing with a point in her own mind. It's fascinating to see but frustrating to be on the listening end of and you frown at her because she's an idiot sometimes. You want her there, Lincoln will want her there, even Raven. "I can walk you to her place if you would like to go though."

"Yeah, I'm not going without you," you say, final. "Forget it." 

You don't need to lift your eyes to know that she's rolling hers and she huffs as she sits next to you, pressing a kiss to your neck. "Your determination to make your friends like me is adorable," she says and you hide your smile as you drop your head, pretending to focus on your phone and determined to keep up the charade your irritated by her. "And it's sweet, attractive. Sexy. I like a stubborn girl, they're very hard to resist."

"Lexa," you bite out and she laughs, pressing her lips to your shoulder. "They like you more than you probably think they do."

It's true. Lincoln  _loves_ her. Raven is indifferent but you know she'll like Lexa given the chance. Octavia is trying and while you don't trust her you trust Lincoln to do the right thing.

And, well...You like her. Desperately.

"It's not them I worry about," she tells you with a dangerous smile that makes your heart jump rapidly. "If you think I'll be able to stay away from you when you're wearing a bikini then you don't know me at all."

It's flirty and teasing --(definitely not what she was going to say)--and you love everything about it. When she's like this, when she's carefree and beautiful, you feel like you're supposed to feel; just a teenager falling for the prettiest person they have ever seen. She giggles against your lips when you move in and her tongue creates fires inside of you, her moans caress your lips and you try and remember every single details for nights that you ache without her. She's soft against you but firm too; hard in her kisses, like she needs you to remember, and practiced with her touch. Her fingers skim your thigh where your church skirt lays perfectly; the length acceptable for your mother but enough that you saw Lexa's eyes darken from across the room. 

You feel sinful as her nails press white marks into the skin of your thigh and you let out a sigh into her mouth that sounds very much like a prayer. 

(You're going to Hell.)

(Worth it.)

\--

"Clarke, stop," Lexa giggles and you grip at her waist to keep her in place with a wide smile. Your phone is forgotten next to you and you pretend to remind yourself that you'll apologise to Raven when you speak to her next because she is trying to include Lexa and you love her a lot for it. But, well, Lexa is giggling and squirming on your lap and it's all you can do to not slam her back onto the floor and learn everything about her.

"I love feeling you on top of me," you admit as you lift the shirt she's wearing and you wonder how you've never noticed how nice she looks in clothing like this. Usually Lexa is super feminine; dresses and pretty tops, but she's wearing a long white shirt today with a pair of black shorts and it makes your heart pound relentlessly. She laughs but abruptly stops when you dip, back curving harshly, and press your lips to her hard stomach. You've done this before but there's something exciting about feeling the breeze against your cheeks while your lips are on her skin. Her fingers press into your shoulders and you shake, glad you wore a tank top as you feel each fingernail press an indent into your shoulder. 

Your hands graze her sides and you're in awe of how amazing she actually is. It takes you a second to realise she's tugging on your hair and you pull away, a little reluctant, a little turned on. 

"Should we stop?" You're torn when you ask because you're terrified she'll say yes but you're worried she'll no. You barely know yourself, how are you supposed to know her? "I'm sorry. I just -- It's getting harder."

She smiles softly, her fingers in your hair. "How are you the same girl who was too afraid to admit she likes girls?" She's not mean with her comment and you let out a laugh through your nose, burying yourself into her chest to hide a blush and she adjusts a little on your lap which doesn't help anything at all. You know she's struggling too, with the way she's breathing heavily, and you're definitely proud of that. "I don't want it to happen next to a river, Clarke."

"Are you sure?" You smirk, mostly because you don't want to look like an idiot in front of her.

"Hey," she urges, pulling you away from her chest and you hardly have a chance to look at her before she's pressing several soft kisses to your lips. "You don't have to do that. This is going to happen eventually, okay? There's nothing that you need to prove to me."

Sometimes you wonder how she can read you so clearly when you don't even know the words to your own story.

"What was it like with Costia?" And you have  _no fucking idea_ where that came from but it's out now and she looks hesitant and you're sure you look guilty, but. Well. You kind of want to know. Was it scary? Did it hurt like it stung with Finn? Is it harder with a girl? "Or, well. With a girl. Not Costia, you don't have to tell me about her."

You know it's a sore subject and you don't trust yourself to not feel jealous, so. 

"I've been with one girl, Clarke. I'm no expert in this either and I'm pretty sure I was terrible the first time so at least you have more experience than me going into this," she says with a nervous smile and it makes you feel a little better. You know she doesn't like thinking of you and Finn but she's not an asshole, she's not going to pretend you don't have an important past too. "We'll learn together, okay? Just like we've done everything else."

You kiss her again because you're only human and it's Sunday, a day of worship.

\--

Your dad texts you to tell you that your mom is working a double, which will take her well into Monday morning, and that he's been called out to an accident so there's money for pizza and to not come home too late. He knows you're with Lexa and he keeps his message short but it's clear he's letting you know that you have permission to stay out past curfew an when you tell Lexa she grins so wide you fear for her cheekbones. 

It's getting dark by the river and Lexa suggests going somewhere warmer so you mention your place, knowing your mom won't be back and your dad won't mind and when she says yes your belly swoops. She's easy to convince when you're alone like this and you hope that you can keep her distracted as you walk past various houses until yours, you hope a twitch of a curtain doesn't scare her.

You want her in your room. 

You want to feel normal.

"Have you thought about college?" The question is gentle, as is your voice, and when she hums you know you've approached it in the right way. Really you're proud of yourself. "It isn't far away. Have you decided what you're going to study?"

Lexa brushes your hand with hers, soft, and it brings your attention to her face as you walk the quiet streets to your place. Your chest feels tight with worry that someone is going to see and Lexa is going to melt away again--(clearly that hasn't left you)--but she's still soft and warm with you, it's enough to keep you going. "You sound like my mom," she murmurs but it's affectionate so you smile. "She wants me to hurry and decide between Business or Law so that she can get me the right tutoring."

"You know, I asked what you were going to study," you start and you can hear her inhale sharply. "I'm not trying to start an argument, okay? I just want to know."

She's still tense but she sighs as you turn onto your block and, rather than running like you thought she might, she stays. "I want to go into Social Work," she says finally and you hold your breath because she's finally admitting something and it's exciting and scary and you kind of love her. Wait. "I want to protect children. Anya and I, when we were younger, we had the best social worker who helped us find Indra and my birth dad she saved us. Our lives. I want to do that, I want to help people and be that beacon of hope." 

You look at her in awe and she almost looks regretful that she's said anything. Her past isn't something you've ever pushed her about; she's mentioned that Indra adopted you both and that Gustus is her real dad but that's about as much as you know. Until now you knew nothing of how her and Anya were related, only your own speculation, and you definitely want to hug her because of how proud you are of her. 

"Lexa --"

She shakes her head. "Indra has given up so much for me though. I want to make her proud," she nods like that's the end of the conversation. "I can make a difference in politics, I know I can."

"Not if your heart isn't in it," you say softly and she looks away, refusing to look up until you get to your door. Rather than giving people chance to see you together you open the door and ease her inside where she can relax a little, where that frown on her face can dissolve into a smile that you've slowly become addicted to. "Whatever choice you make I'm going to support you."

"I know."

You press closer to her and kiss her softly, "I want to know more about you, about your family."

"Not tonight," she whispers and she sounds tired so you let it go because her mind is full of things that aren't you and that's not what Sunday's are. "Let's just order pizza and kiss. That's what I want tonight."

Smirking you nod, "I'm going to take you to my room though."

"Like I'm going to argue with you about that."

\--

She falls asleep without her shirt on and with a little pizza sauce on her lip and it's the most beautiful sight you have ever seen. You text your dad to wake you when he gets home so that Lexa can leave and you determine to deal with 'the talk' and 'the open door policy' rants you're going to get later. Right now you want to fall asleep in her arms and you let yourself do just that, your head on her chest and her leg between yours. 

The future is terrifying, filled with endless possibilities and terrifying outcomes, but if you can feel even a tiny piece of this each night then you know it's going to be worth it.

She's worth every battle you're about to face.


	5. July-August

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this began to get out of hand. If you follow me on my Tumblr you'll understand why I've split this but, I thought, 22,000 words (and still not finished) was a little excessive for a chapter. Especially since I was going to add two more Sunday's to it. It was too much, I think, all at once with people reacting to Clarke and I didn't want it to be too intense honestly.  
> Hopefully you enjoy it.  
> Part 50: There's some homophobic language if you want to avoid that.  
> As always this isn't edited because I literally just write and never proofread anything which you'll notice. I will come back and eventually fix all of the mistakes that I know are there.

******JULY.**

**45.**

“Do you remember that little farmers market you took me to a few months ago? It was outside of Polis and you kissed me in your car after,” you tack on as a reminder, like she might have forgotten, and she makes you laugh as she turns to look at you with an expression that says just as much. It’s obvious that she remembers it because you’re sure that it’s the exact moment she worked out something you’ve always known.

How brave she actually is.

You bite down on another slice of apple as you watch her lay back and soak up the early summer sunshine. The only man-made noise that interrupts your little solace is the whirr of your camera as it finishes printing a picture but even with that you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you really are. For as lovely and as exciting as Washington is, nothing has quite changed your life like the tiny town of Polis with its flowing rivers and girls with mile wide smiles.

“Clarke,” she says in the way that always catches your attention and you turn to her, wishing you could figure out how to keep that tiny little smile on her lips to last forever. “Would you like to go to the market again? I’m sure we can arrange it.”

It’s easy to agree because, yes, you want to, but you had another motive for bringing it up. “You tasted like apples that day,” is what you say instead of answering and she blushes at the same time a short breathy laugh leaves her pretty lips. She rolls her eyes behind the closed lids, you can tell because you’re staring so hard, and she doesn’t look at all surprised when she finally decides to open her eyes to find you looking at her. “Everytime I eat one I think about you being brave enough to kiss me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she whispers in reply but she genuinely looks touched by your words so you lean in to kiss her, your lips just barely brushing hers before you sit up again to look at the picture you’d taken. It was only a few moments earlier and it was supposed to be of the two of you--smiling happily and in one another's arms preferably--but then you had said something to make Lexa laugh and kiss your cheek at the moment your finger had pressed the shutter down.

The developed image is sweet, you think. You can see the laughter in Lexa’s face, even pressed against your cheek, and your mouth is parted in a way you know is pronouncing her name if from nothing else but the glint in your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” Lexa murmurs and you turn to look at where she’s now sitting up next to you. “Sometimes I think it’s impossible for someone to be as kind and caring and breathtaking as you are but I guess I’m willing to be wrong.”

“Guess there’s a first time for everything,” you tease her and her eyes smile at you so beautifully that you have to inhale sharply.

She kisses you once and your mouth is flooded with the taste of  apples and hope and bravery once more. “Every moment with you feels like the first time,” she says.

You kiss her again, deeper this time, because this silly, cheesy, poetic sap is yours.

\---

It’s growing darker but you don’t care.

You know you need to be home for dinner but your mom is working until eight and you all decided that morning, as a ‘family’, that you’re going to eat later so that you can eat together. It gives you a little more time with Lexa, despite the cooler air surrounding your little bubble, and you can’t find it in you to really care about anything beyond this little point in the world.

“Clarke,” she says your name like a question, like she’s nervous, and you lift your head from where you’ve been happily laying on her chest. Her fingers tangle in your hair where she was playing with the strands and you can’t help but laugh quietly as she mutters and blushes and spends a few seconds too long sorting out the mess. “Shut up, stop laughing at me.”

Her telling you to ‘shut up’ just makes you laugh harder and you reach a hand up to help pull your hair from the small knot she’s formed and you link your fingers through hers as you finally sit up. Your eyes tear away from her pretty features to scan your little view now that it’s getting dimmer and you find your little hidden solace is as beautiful now as it was when you first found it. “What time is it?”

“Almost six,” she says softly, her voice doing that gentle lulling noise that makes you feel tired. You let out a soft groan at the thought of leaving soon and she presses a kiss to your shoulder to hush you. That just makes you pout more because you’d rather sit in the cold with her than pretend to enjoy dinner with your mom. “Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think -- Actually, no. Nevermind,” Lexa stutters and you have to hold her hand tighter to ensure she doesn’t bolt all of a sudden. You can see her building walls again already; fumbling for an excuse, cheeks flushed and beautiful, her eyes on everything but you and your moment. “It’s silly.”

You blink at her, once, “Lexa. Tell me,” whispers from your mouth and you tug at her again. You try a little gentler. “Ask me.”

She hums. “You can say no, of course, but I was thinking that maybe you’d like to stay over on Saturday night. At my house. I mean,” the frustrated little huff that leaves her is one of the most human noises you think she has ever made in your presence--(minus the soft moans she makes when you kiss her stomach)--and you smile. She looks suspicious when she catches your eye and her tone is rough when she speaks as she attempts to cover up her blush.  “What?”

“Nothing,” but your mind screams _I love you._ “You know I want to, Lexa. So much.”

“But your mom,” she finishes for you and the look on her face makes you want to throw your hands up and give it all up to run away with her. “No, I understand.”

You feel bad because your girl--God, you love that title--is being so brave and you’ve been asking her to do this for so long. It doesn’t take long for the feeling of being an utter asshole to set in and you bring her hand to your lips. “Sorry,” you say quickly and you nip at her finger when she goes to brush it all away. You’re not going to let her do this when it clearly took a lot for her to ask you. “Raven will probably cover for me, you know? I’ll text her now.”

“Raven?”

“My dad loves her so my mom won’t question it when I ask to stay at her house,” you explain quietly and reach around to pull your forgotten cell from your pocket. When you’re with Lexa you don’t feel the need to have it and you’re not sure what that says about you but you don’t really care. You fire off a quick text to Raven asking if you can use her as an excuse, explaining you want to stay at your girlfriends house, and the little defiance sparks something bright white and hot in your chest. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we spend the night together, okay?”

When she smiles you feel like you’ve done a lot more than simply agree to a sleepover. You feel like you’ve saved the world. You feel important. “I just -- After that night at yours last week it’s been hard to fall asleep alone.”

“I know,” you agree. You’re already well aware of how big your bed is without her when it’s only felt her presence once. “Are you going to make me breakfast?”

She laughs and it vibrates into your mouth when she leans in for a kiss. “Is that a pick up line?”

“No. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” you defend yourself, chasing her lips as she pulls back and she willingly lets you pull her back in for a few seconds. “And if I have to endure my mother at church after getting to spend the night with you, I need the strength.”

When she rolls her eyes at you, which is way hotter than you think a singular action should be allowed to be, you don’t mind. Because she’s too busy kissing you to throw whatever she thinks about your words back at you and, really, you’re not going to ask her to elaborate when you can taste apples and the river and her bravery.

\---

You feel childish and giddy and everything you haven’t felt with past boyfriends as you walk home with her when your alarm sounds and breaks the moment by the river. Your fingers are linked, hands swinging between the both of you and you know Bellamy or Raven or even your dad would gag at the look on your face. There’s a skip in your step and your bottom lip still throbs with the memory of her teeth and you don’t think you’ve ever been so happy or content or lucky.

There’s still a few minutes walk until you have to let go of her hand but right now you’re not willing to think about anything beyond the soft green of the trees and the warm weight of her next to you.

When your phone vibrates in your pocket you glance at her in excitement but she’s busy murmuring under her breath. You’re shocked for a second by how pretty her lips look moving like that but you force yourself out of it because _really_? She glances at you curiously when you check the message but doesn’t say anything; simply lets go of your hand in amusement when you try, and fail, to unlock your phone and reply with one hand.

“Raven says it’s totally fine with her,” you grin and you swallow thickly when she repositions her hand on the small of your back like she can’t go too long without touching you anymore. “She also told me to ‘get it’, so please ignore anything she says to you if you ever see her.”

“Okay,” Lexa humors you and you tap back to your friend in excitement, thanking her and telling her you owe her everything for coming to your rescue. She tells you to shut up and you thank the stars that you have someone like Raven in your life. You know that it’ll be harder when she goes to college next month but you’re hoping by then you’ll have made progress with your mother. “What are you thinking about?”

You smirk at her and stop walking, your hand going to her hard stomach as you push her back against a high bricked wall and she only glances around once before her focus is back on you and half-lidded. “Saturday night,” you whisper as she swallows. “Getting you all to myself.”

“You always have me to yourself,” she tries but her voice is shaky and her eyes are darkening. “There could be thousands of people with us and it’s just you and me in my mind.”

She’s so fucking cheesy you wonder how she ever landed a girlfriend in the past. But then you tune in to how hard your heart is beating and how warm your cheeks feel and how desperately you need her tongue against yours and it all makes sense. “Yeah, but this time it’ll be just me and you and your nice, big, comfortable bed.”

You punctuate your words with fast, furious kisses. Quick enough so you won't linger or get caught. “Saturday can’t come soon enough,” she whispers reverently, like you’re some deity, and you press your fingers harder into her stomach. “I can’t wait to wake up with you in my arms on Sunday. You’re the first thing I think about when I become conscious. I can’t wait until you’re the first thing to invade all of my senses.”

This time it’s you who rolls your eyes and you sigh out in exasperation. She’s like a melody when she laughs and you take it because that sound it always worth it.

The thing is though you think she genuinely means the things she says and it makes your heart cry out every single time..

\---

“Caramel,” she says abruptly, moments before you part. “You taste like caramel.”

God, she’s too much sometimes.

It makes you wonder if the biggest sin of all is gluttony because you cannot, cannot, _cannot_ get enough.

 

**46.**

When you wake to soft light and a heavy warmth, you’re naked.

\---

You lay completely still for over twenty minutes and take everything in. The truth is you weren’t expecting things to go as they did but Lexa was so sure that it would happen organically, that you were going to work together and trust one another, that nothing had felt rushed or pressured and you don’t regret a single thing.

It hadn’t started like Lexa wanted to invite you over and have sex with you. If anything she was her usual self; shy and desperate to please with countless drink offers and your choice in movies. She was soft and gentle in her kisses and, as always, it hadn’t taken long for the two of you to be shirtless and panting into one another's mouths with a need you didn’t know you had until you met her.

When you turn over to lay on your side, mostly so you can look at her, Lexa has her back to you and the sheets have lowered to her waist. It exposes her entire back to you; strong shoulders, a soft but muscular back, two little dimple above the swell of her backside that you now know exist there even if they’re hidden by the white sheet.

She’s beautiful and she isn’t even doing anything.

You lift your hand, tracing your fingers down the curve of her shoulders and over the extended muscle from the position she’s laying in, and you feel the exact moment that she wakes up. She sighs deeply, content, and shifts a little under the covers to stretch her legs out and arch her spine. You jolt lightly as you feel a harsh tugging in your stomach when she lets out a moan that is so reminiscent of the night before, so familiar, that you’re transported to the moments that you were above her, watching her, being guided by her, and you press your lips to the back of her neck to muffle a groan.

“You should be sleeping,” her voice rocks you and it’s hard to not be in love with the sound of her voice the first thing in the morning. It’s husky and low, almost scratchy, and you smile into her skin at the sound of it. You smile at the fact you’re trusted enough to know what it sounds like. “It’s still early.”

“Mm, you weren’t that good,” you tease. It’s hard not to laugh when she lets out a scoffing noise, unable to take that seriously when her arms and shoulders are still marked by you, and she doesn’t even attempt to turn over. There are little goosebumps on her skin from where she’d opened a window before you had both fallen asleep and you trace them with the tip of your fingernail, enjoying how little white lines appear on her flawless skin. “I’ve been awake for hours, Lexa.”

“Of course you have,” she whispers. Without even looking at her you know she’s smiling, wetting those soft lips with a softer tongue, and you shiver at the knowledge that you know what those little things feel like all over your body. On your stomach. Your neck. The inside of your thighs.

Impatient at having not yet seen her face you pull back, shifting your body back on the bed just enough that you can tug at her shoulder, despite her annoyed whine, and push her onto her back.

But honestly, she’s so fucking beautiful that it almost hurts you to look at her.

She blinks at you slowly and you run your hand over the skin beneath her exposed breasts. The action makes her shiver and by the time you’ve wrapped your fingers over her ribs she’s managed to shift closer so that your thighs are touching and she can lift her own hand to play with the hair that’s gathered over your shoulder and neck.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” she smiles and it’s a wonder you ever woke up in a good mood in the past. Now you know what it’s like to be with her, now you know what it’s liked to be looked at like you’re everything, your previous mornings seem rather boring in comparison. “Are you okay? I mean...Last night wasn’t the reason I asked you to stay, you know?”

“Mm, I know,” you reply quickly so that she doesn’t worry and you watch as those eyes you adore so much begin to wake up bit by bit. “I think I made it pretty clear I wasn’t against it though, right?”

You think back to how you’d grasped at her, pulled her closer, panted into her mouth as each little item of clothing came off. You think back to her hands on your skin, to her mouth on your chest, to her nervous gaze but confident words. You think back to how soft and gentle she was but how commanding she took you, how she didn’t falter even when her hands shook, how she was so much more than anything you’d hoped she would be while, at the same time, singing your praises that you were more than she ever envisioned.

You’re pleasantly sore and definitely convinced this isn’t some “phase” that your mom will try and say it is.

And you love her.

You _love_ her.

“You seemed into it,” Lexa grins and the fingers playing with your hair suddenly move to the back of your neck to bring you in for a kiss. Before you can even protest that you need to brush your teeth your lips are on hers and it doesn’t matter, you don’t care, because even the thought of leaving this bed is too much for you to handle right now. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think it was a mistake.”

“Lexa,” comes out in a sigh and you move your body so that you’re over her, so that your thigh is between hers and your forearms laid either side of her head. You’re not mad, or even tired of her saying things like that, but you need to know she’s heard you. “Don’t make this something it isn’t. You heard me in the diner, right? I’ll _never_ regret something with you. So don’t. Just be here with me.”

“I’m here.” she promises before leaning up to kiss you again. You press your chest into hers, settling onto her body, and forget the world exists for a long time.

\---

Why you’re surprised when Indra walks in unannounced, just as Lexa is tangling her fingers through your hair, you don’t know. Because happiness has a limit. And it seems that you’ve both hit yours.

\---

Indra for a long time, after you both dress and walk downstairs into the kitchen, doesn’t say a word. You watch as she lets her coffee go cold, as she fiddles with her two phones and her bracelet intermittently, as she looks at Lexa and them seems to swallow whatever it was she was going to say back down. She doesn’t look disappointed, not from what you can see, but she looks like a concerned mother and you don’t know if that’s worse.

Because what can be so concerning about her daughter finding love?

“I know you don’t want to talk about this but we’re going to have to,” she finally says, her words shocking you in a way that you weren’t expecting. She’s soft where you thought she’d be scathing and she looks _sad._ “Clarke, you can go home.”

You’re kind of impressed that she knows your name since she’s only ever really seen glimpses of you in town and a few times in her home and you’re about to reply when Lexa grips at your fingers. “No, I want her here.”

“Lexa.”

“Mom, please.” You have to hold her hand tighter at that because she sounds so young and so scared that all you want to do is bundle her up and look after her. The entire morning you’ve been so focused on her needs that it’s gone forgotten that you’ve pretty much been outed to a stranger. “Please. I need her.”

“Lexa, she needs to go to church,” Indra replies with no room for argument and you feel Lexa tense beside you. “Does her mother know where she is right now?”

“No,” you say quickly because you’re both already in enough trouble and you have a feeling that lying will just make it worse. “She thinks I’m with Raven. She doesn’t know about me and Lexa being friends.”

Indra looks annoyed and the sigh she lets out is aggravated in the most severe of ways. She rubs her forehead slowly and drops both of her hands to the counter before clearly making a decision in her mind, a quick nod confirming herself. “I don’t condone lying in this household,” she says slowly and you frown at that because _yes she does._ She does condone lying. Lexa lies every single fucking day of her life. “I still want to discuss this with you, Lexa.”

“I know,” she murmurs but she’s still holding your hand and she isn’t wavering in her eye contact with her mother. “Just later, okay? Please? It’s already embarrassing enough for us all right now and I think we all need some time to get into the right headspace. If we don’t go to church they’re going to know something is wrong and they’ll ask questions.”

You smile at her diplomatic answer and you resist kissing her.

You hope you’re as strong as her one day.

“This afternoon,” is decided, to which Lexa nods enthusiastically,and Indra inhales slowly. Meditatively. “I’m going to make sure Anya and Aden are ready and then we’re going. Clarke, would you like a lift into town?”

Lexa wants you to say yes, you know she does, but the risk is too big. If your mom sees you, or one of her friends, it’ll just cause this headache of a situation to grow worse and you need peace in your heart if you’re ever going to get through this day. Politely you shake your head and Lexa makes a small noise that you immediately want to soothe with your mouth. “I shouldn’t, but thank you. I’m just going to head to church now. I’ll see you there?”

“You’re coming back with us later though, right?” Lexa asks panicked. You risk a glance to Indra but she’s as impassive as always--clearly where Lexa has picked it up from--and then nod at the nervous girl in front of you.

You don’t know why it feels like you’re not going to see her again but you swallow that fear down.

\---

Lexa walks you to the door before you need to leave and kisses you so desperately that it hurts your lips and your jaw and your waist where she’s holding you tightly.

You think she might be feeling that same fearful feeling too.

\---

Your mom greets you with a kiss to your cheek and a distracted rub of your arm before she’s firing off questions about your night, about whether you saw Finn, about how handsome Wells looks. You try and keep up but all you can think about is Lexa’s mouth so scared against your own and how, when the sleek black car drove past, it seemed like Anya was comforting her.

Wells approaches you and you’re sure you have a conversation with him but you’re too busy searching out the Woods family, desperately trying to find them in the crowd, and sighing when you can’t. Your friend seems to notice your distraction and politely excuses himself away, earning a tut from your mother, but you don’t care.

You don’t care because you love _her_ and you can’t see her.

“You okay, kiddo?”

When you turn to look you see your father's concerned gaze and it takes a few seconds for your eyes to fill with tears and his to fill with panic. “Dad…”

“Come here,” he whispers and leads you to the car gently, ignoring your mom calling after you both, and you clamber in before slamming the door and waiting for your dad to lock it. “Baby, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t…” You trail off because you’re about to admit to your favourite person in the world that you’ve lied to him and it hurts a little because he deserves a much better daughter than you. “I wasn’t at Raven’s last night. I stayed at Lexa’s.”

He doesn’t look disappointed but he does tilt his head back with a small sigh through his nose. “Okay,” he leads and then brushes some hair from your forehead, his gaze so caring that your stomach twists on itself. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you’re quick to say because you want him to trust Lexa like you do. You don’t want his opinion to change. “It was...I mean we…” You know he gets it when you trail off, his awkward cough proving it, and you blush deeply. “God, this is so weird.”

He murmurs his agreement and you look away because now your dad knows you’re not totally innocent and it’s just really, really awkward. “Why are you so upset? Did she hurt you? Clarke, I need you to talk to me otherwise I can’t help you begin to fix whatever’s wrong.”

“Dad, no,” you turn to him quickly, a little grimace on your face at the thought, and you smile as he relaxes instantly. You know he likes Lexa but you’re his child, he’s always going to defend you first. “She was perfect.”

“Okay,” Jake says quickly and you instantly realise what you’ve said, and how it might have sounded, and the blush starts all over again. “Good.”

You look down to your hands, hands that loved her so much the night before and that morning, and your eyes follow as your dad takes both of yours into his gently and patiently waits for you. “Her mom caught us this morning,” you finally say, swallowing thickly, and you feel the burn behind your eyes again. “And now I don’t know what to do because when I left this morning she seemed to be okay, like she was a little mad obviously, but now they’re not here and I don’t know what to do.”

“They were here earlier,” he assures you and you look up at him with wet eyes, a little quiver in your lip. “Mayor Woods spoke to Jaha and they left soon after but they were here this morning, okay?”

“But they’re not now.”

Your dad sighs and you feel a twist in your stomach. “Kid, if I caught anyone--girl or boy--in your bedroom then I’d want to talk to you about it. Just us. Lexa’s homelife is probably a little different to ours and this is something Mayor Woods might want to talk about with her daughter alone, okay? This doesn’t mean anything bad, definitely nothing like the scenarios your beautiful mind is creating.”

“Lexa’s been in my room. You woke us up,” you defend and Jake laughs. The deep noise is comforting.

“You were fully dressed,” he reminds you with a tap of his fingers on the back of your hand. “If the situation was something different then I can promise you that my reaction would have been different. Not because she’s a girl but because that’s my house and there are certain rules you need to follow. Do you understand?”

You nod even though you’re still scared and then lean into his shoulder. “I want to know that she’s okay, that’s all,” you say, voice still a little wobbly, and you relax when he nuzzles into your hair quietly.

“Give them today and then text her in the morning,” he tries but that seems like a lifetime away and he chuckles at the discontented whine that you let out. “Or at least wait until after church is finished.”

“Okay,” you sigh before turning softly and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He smells like motor oil and the shaving gel that he buys religiously. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he assures. You’re about to turn and get out of the car, completely sure your mom will be sighing and tutting and stamping her foot like you’ve ruined her day, when he tightens his hold on your wrist. “But Clarke we do need to talk about boundaries and the fact you felt like you needed to lie to me.”

You nod, solemn. “I am sorry about that.”

“I know you are. But you can’t put me in this position of lying to your mother too, okay? I’m not asking you to tell her about Lexa, or who you are, not until you’re ready. That’s something you need to decide by yourself. But lying to us about where you are? Making me lie to your mother even if I don’t know that I am? That’s not okay. If something would have happened to you, or us, I need to know where you are.”

You hang your head a little in shame. “I know. I didn’t know what else to do. There’s no way mom would have let me stay at Lexa’s.”

He sighs at that because he knows you’re right but he also has a point; lying isn’t okay.

“I understand that, baby. I do. But please just trust me to help you with this,” he says gently and your heart swells with love for the man in front of you. “You’re not alone in this. You or Lexa. Understand?”

You hug him almost as desperately as Lexa had held onto you that morning and you know, truly know, that you’re stronger for having him on your side.

\----

You can’t focus on your prayers or the gentle words that Jaha is offering to his people. There’s gentle murmuring around you as people get ready to leave but you’re practically deafened by your silent phone, how it’s remained silent all morning, how she hasn’t even managed to text you to come to her yet.

You’re scared.

You’re scared for what this means for Lexa. What this means for you. What it means for you as a couple.

You need to know that she’s okay; you need her to know that she’s loved and cared for. You need her to tell you that the only thing that this situation is is embarrassing and not life changing.

In church, your dad holds your hand all morning.

\---

It’s pure instinct that you walk to your little clearing now. Your dad had looked at you when you left church so softly that you nearly gave in and went home to spend time with him instead. But you need this space and this peace and comfort that the clearing brings and you just start walking instead. In the back of your mind you know that your mom is mad at you for being so distant but you can’t find it in you to fight her right now; you need to collect yourself and come together.

As you walk up you marvel at how pretty this place is in the summer. Bright green grass is growing between the trees, small areas trampled by the animals that the Woods family fight so hard to preserve, and the sunlight shimmers off the clear water in the stream. Even from your place a few yards back you can see the silver flashes on tiny fish and you walk closer, rocks clicking over one another as you step forward, and you watch as the water rushes by. There are a few plants growing in the soggy soil that surrounds the stream and it makes you smile at how something so beautiful thrives in an area that should drown them, that should destroy them.

You sit down on the hard rocks and bring your knees to your chest. A soft breeze tickles at the back of your neck, pushing wisps of hair into your eyes, but you don’t push them away because they still linger with the scent of Lexa’s room and you press your nose into your knee as you force yourself to stay calm.

She’s okay, you tell yourself, you’re okay.

\---

Darkness falls and your phone stays as silent as your tears.

\---

The silence ends on Monday morning when you get a message from Lexa’s phone letting you know that she’s okay, that everything is okay, but she’s in trouble for sneaking you in and that she’s grounded with her phone access taken away. When you ask how she’s texting you the reply comes telling you that it’s Anya texting, that Lexa had begged her sister to let Clarke know she was okay, and that just makes you more anxious. Anya tells you that their mom is mad but not because of Lexa being with a girl; she’s mad because Lexa lied to her so easily for so long, she’s mad because she thinks Lexa can't trust her.

When you answer saying that Indra makes Lexa lie about who she is daily and no reply comes.

\---

It’s been a week since you’ve seen her, since you’ve heard her voice, since you’ve felt her smile against your mouth and it’s driving you crazy. Your mom berates the downturn of your mouth, your slumped posture, your eating habits and you get a frustrated scolding for simply giving her grunts for an answer.

“She doesn’t understand you,” your dad had said after another one-sided argument between your and your mom on Friday evening and even he looks exhausted. You feel worse because you’re the one who has put him in this middle position and you add it to the weight on your shoulders. “She thinks she’s losing you, Clarke.”

You can’t answer that without telling him that she’s going to lose you when she finds out the truth and you just apologise again.

You’re getting good at that.

\---

She’s at church again on Sunday morning and you start breathing properly again after a week of suffocating.

When you catch her eyes, she looks like she’s finally figured out how to breathe too.

\---

You wait until service is over.

You wait until your mom stops talking and Wells stops impressing and your dad finally gets everyone to leave.

You wait until there’s nobody left except you and Lexa.

Because you’d wait forever.

She greets you first because she’s always the first to speak. “Hello,” she says and, honestly, it’s the prettiest noise you that you think you’ve ever heard.

**\---**

Lexa tells you about her family as you walk towards your small, carved out, private area of Polis. She talks about how her mother wishes she’d just _speak_ to her and how her dad was pretty certain you and her were a thing for a long time. You resist the urge to hold her hand when she talks about how embarrassing it was to talk about safe sex with her parents and you chuckle to yourself as she recounts how Anya placed four condoms on her bed ‘just in case’ you both wanted to try something new.

She finally holds your hand as you turn to walk into your clearing and you feel so much calmer.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispers as she pulls you closer, too needy to wait until you’ve sat down, and you surround yourself with her as the water flows and the birds sing and the flowers grow. “I wanted to speak to you so badly because I know how much you hate it when I just leave like that. I’m so sorry.”

You’re not mad at her for it, you know she was just following the rules, and you hold her tighter.  Some fights are worth it, but sometimes you have to pick your battles and you’re willing to have a few days of silence as long as it promises a lifetime with her eventually. “You’re here now,” you assure and she pulls away only enough to bring her lips down against yours.

It’s a strong kiss and it makes your knees shake. Her hands cup your jaw and you bring your own to tangle into her shirt, hauling her closer and smirking at the surprised little noise she echoes into your mouth. The kiss is desperate in a way that cries _I’ve missed you_ and _I love you_ and _please don’t scare me like that again._ You’re surrounded by your favourite things; her scent, her tastes, the sounds she makes.

You’d relive that Sunday morning over and over and over again just to get these five minutes over and over and over again too.

\---

“Lexa?”

She’s staring at your mouth when you say her name but she doesn’t react to you for a long moment. Her hair is down, naturally curled at the ends, and curtaining the both of you as she settles herself on top of your curves. With the warmth of the sunshine it’s comfortable to lay on the floor and her soft weight on top of you doesn’t feel stifling. It feels right, like you’ve both been waiting for this again with the same need. You’ve spent an entire week worrying about her and now you’re finding it hard to do anything else but just _look_ at her.

It takes another second but she blinks once, twice, and finally comes back to herself with a delicate blush and a little jolt that makes you grin and lean up to kiss her chin. You forget sometimes that behind the strength and the bravery and the stoic expressions that she’s just a teenage girl, looking for love, looking to be loved.

“Something on your mind there, beautiful?” She dips her head at your question and presses a long, wet kiss to the juncture of your jawline and your neck just to feel you shiver in response. It makes your thighs tighten around hers and you get distracted by her the way she was by you and it makes you laugh happily into her ear.

“I was just looking,” she replies quietly and lifts herself a little more; enough so she can see you but not enough that it separates your thighs or stomachs or breasts. You’re still pressed together deliciously and it makes you quiver. “All I had were those pictures you took of us on your camera and they didn’t serve you nearly enough justice.”

You roll your eyes at her words but the compliment settles in your chest, warm and sated. “Shut up,” you tell her, even though you know she’ll just ignore you and continue to lavish compliments on you whenever she can. “Does your mom know about us now? Being in a relationship I mean.”

“Yes,” she sighs but it isn’t sad and you lift one hand to trace over her lips. “She knows better than anyone what this town can be like and she doesn’t want what happened when Costia left to happen again. Dad doesn’t mind as long as I’m careful but Titus think it’ll be a bad PR move if it comes out. Mom told him where to put his opinion. She just wants me to be safe.”

It’s understandable really. If people spoke to Lexa to her face the way they speak behind her back then it’s no surprise that Indra doesn’t want her daughter to deal with that again. Just hearing your mom talk about how fluid sexualitydoesn’t exist and is simply an attention seeking tactic, agreeing that phases were a thing, was painful. To imagine an entire town saying it is heartbreaking.

But she isn’t alone this time.

“I’m so proud of you,” you tell her. Because it’s true. Because she makes you proud each day. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you. Think about where you were a year ago today and look at you now.”

She bites at your bottom lip to try and distract you from the blush on her neck and her cheeks but it doesn’t work and you let out a little moan as payback, watching as her brain seems to short-circuit at the noise. You kiss her because she’s so fucking amazing and because you love her more than you can say. More than you know how to express.

“I’m proud of you too,” she smirks before she shifts her hips forward, settling between your legs harder and this time you moan because you can’t help yourself. You hear the tiny rocks beneath your head shift as she clenches her fingers and you wrap your legs around her hips, rocking up into her shamelessly as you keep your eyes locked onto hers. “Clarke.”

“I’ve missed touching you,” you hum against her lips and you know you’ve won when she shakes against you, when her body goes fluid and her eyes hazy. “Now that I know what it feels like, what you sound like, I don’t want to stop doing it. Do you know what you do to me?”

She sighs and rolls her hips again, almost like she can’t help it. “We’re outside.”

“I know,” you grin, easing your hands beneath the thin top she’s wearing today and your nails dig into her side as she purposefully rocks harder despite her words. You just want to feel at peace, you want to feel easy and stress-free and you want her to know what that feels like too. It’s been a week and you’ve missed that connection. “ But this is our place. I just want to feel you.”

“Someone might hear us,” she groans but she’s already leaning on one forearm while the other slips between the both of you to lift the hem of your summer dress up between your stomachs and her fingers trace against the outside of your thigh. It makes you laugh how easy she is once those walls are down.

You kiss her again. “Only if you do it right.”

\---

As it turns out she knows exactly how to do it, even when it’s quick and dirty and rushed, and you’re way too satisfied to be annoyed at how good she is.

**\---**

“You know what I’ve just realised? I don’t know your birthday,” she starts and it makes you laugh because you’re both still a little sweaty and your back kind of hurts and you’re struggling to pull the zipper of her jeans up when she says it. She sounds nonchalant, like she hadn’t just crashed the entire world down around your ears with just her fingers, and you look up at her with an amused smirk before she pulls away from you and sorts herself out. “When is it?”

It takes you a second but you realise you don’t know hers either. You know that she prefers coffee to hot chocolate, but always drinks the latter when you’re around, and you know she has a special smile for those people in church that she hates. You know she has the flattest stomach you’ve ever seen and that she’s ticklish behind her knee. You know she likes being in the library because it’s quiet and full of her favorite things; books and you. You know that she hates leaving the house looking anything less than perfect and that she tends to imagine what she’s going to wear for you the night before, planning it in advance.

But you don’t know her birthday. It seems, with Lexa at least, you want the most important parts of her first.

“End of August,” you say quickly, kind of embarrassed that you didn’t notice it approaching so quickly since it’s just over a month away. Then again, since being in Polis, you’ve slowly become separated from your mom and your dad has been busy; there hasn’t really been a big lead up to you becoming seventeen. You’ve celebrated all of your friends birthdays since you’ve been here, but not hers. “Twentieth. Yours?”

“February eighteenth,” she shrugs and you frown because you’ve missed it. She didn’t tell you and it hurts a little but when you think back to what you were doing in February you can sort of understand her hesitancy. Why would she tell you when she could barely admit to herself that you were friends?. “You were with Finn and it was weird with us because of Costia and...Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Birthdays aren’t a big thing in my family.”

You shrug and vow to yourself to make the next one even better. “I can’t believe it’s taken you until now to tell me that you had a birthday without me,” you smile as you move to sit up with Lexa cuddling into your side. She presses a kiss against your still damp neck and hums in contentment. “Guess we’ll have to do something another day.”

“I don’t want to,” she says softly and wraps one arm around you. “Having you everyday is enough. I don’t need one day to feel special when simply having your eyes on me makes me feel way more important than any birthday ever could.”

You groan at her words but they feel nice anyway and you kiss her again.

\---

When you walk into your house your dad looks at you knowingly and you look down at the floor in a futile attempt to hide your smile. Your neck is still stained with her kisses and you’re sure there are marks on your thighs where she gripped you so tightly that you didn’t think you’d move again. He quirks an eyebrow and you giggle, you actually _giggle,_ and it makes him smile widely behind his newspaper.

“I take it you and your girlfriend managed to make up then?” He asks and you roll your eyes at him. “Good. Because I do want to meet her eventually.”

You take off up the stairs at that because God he’s embarrassing. But the idea of your favourite man meeting your favourite girl isn’t the worst thought in the world and you wriggle to yourself in excitement at the very image.

You fall asleep to images of Lexa waiting for you at the bottom of your church aisle in a pretty dress and her perfect make up while your dad holds your arm proudly. No matter what happens, you know you’ll always have those two people to help guide you through everything that life may throw and it’s enough for you to fall asleep to with a peaceful heart.

**48.**

Mayor Woods and Gustus might not be your biggest fans--(knowing that you know what their daughter looks like naked isn’t their favourite thing about you)--but things get a little easier. You have more places to go, Indra prefers it if you’re both at the house, and Lexa doesn’t feel as on guard as she once did. Because now she knows her mom might be aware of questions about you and it’s less scary to think about. She might not hold your hand in public but she smiles at you more outside of church and, sometimes, Anya will nod at you too. If she’s feeling generous that day.

It seems like the only person in the world who is completely unaware of the positive change in you is your mom. She keeps putting it down to mood swings and arguments with Finn, despite you having told her that was long over, and it makes you want to scream and tell her the truth all at once.

“Wells, darling, come here,” your mom says and you straighten up a little from where you’ve been leaning against a wall, your eyes tracking Lexa and her movements with Aden. Even when putting on a front you can see how different she is with the little boy and your expression grows fond as you watch her scoop him into her arms, his giggle reaching your ears from across the car park. “Oh, don’t you look handsome today? Clarke doesn’t he look handsome?”

You look at your friend blankly for a second because, yes, he is handsome but you don’t know why your opinion matters. Wells is a very attractive guy and you’re pretty sure he knows it with the way he carries himself, he doesn’t need your ego boost. “This isn’t Mean Girls, mom,” you snip and you’re proud when Wells laughs affectionately despite your mother's face. “I like your shirt though.”

“Thanks,” he preens and points to your outfit, hand chosen by your mother, modified to impress Lexa by yourself. “I like your shoes.”

It’s awkward and funny and your mother seems to completely miss the weird factor as she clasps her hands together in front of her mouth. Since Finn is out, it seems Wells is back in and you bite back a deep sigh. “You’re so adorable with one another. I still don’t know why you two can’t see what the rest of us can see,” she coos and tugs on her husband's shirt, giving you and Wells enough respite to look at one another in amusement. You’re pretty sure Wells is seeing some senior that knows Bellamy, and you’ve heard rumors that it’s serious, but to Abby Griffin a silly little thing like monogamy and free-choice is just a little bump in her road. “Jake. Don’t they look handsome together.”

“Yes, Clarke you’re very handsome,” your dad sighs, used to it, and you snicker as you lean into the tall boy next to you. He wraps his arm around your shoulder which only seems to set your mother off even more. “Wells you too.”

“Thank you sir,” Wells replies and it goes quiet for a long time. Enough for it to be awkward for three of people in the group of four standing around. “I apologise but I think my father needs me. Have a wonderful day.”

You watch as he leaves and count to five in your head, waiting for your mom's voice, and you only get to three before you hear it. “He’s wonderful,” she sighs and you only just refrain from asking if _she’s_ the one with a crush. “You should invite him to your birthday meal, Clarke. I’m sure he’d love to be there.”

“Mm, should I invite his girlfriend too?” You ask and your mother’s scowl is so sour that you can practically taste it in the air that surrounds her. Your attention wavers and you look back to your own girlfriend who has taken to talking to a couple that you don’t think you’ve ever met before but her smile is wide and they hold their hands out to her in greeting so you’re not too worried. “Besides, I just want something small.”

Your mom waves her hand. “Nonsense. What’s the point in having a yard so large if we never use it? We can fit more than thirty people in there easily and have a barbeque going,” she continues and you raise your eyebrows at your dad who can only shrug, clearly new to this topic too. “Your birthday lands on a Saturday this year but we could do it after church. Most people are free then.”

“No,” you say quickly and swallow the remaining words as both parents look at you. “I think I’ll be busy on the Sunday. Let’s do it Saturday.”

Your mom hums at that, clearly making plans in her head, and you risk another look at Lexa and the people she’s speaking to. They look in serious conversation and you don’t want to interrupt just because you want to feel her comfort so you stand back and play the perfect daughter role once more, counting down the minutes until she’s all yours again.

\---

“I think if it was legal my mom would totally marry me off to Wells Jaha,” you tell her when you’re both finally alone in your spot. With the weather warming up nicely you don’t have any excuses to hide away in the diner or the library and you enjoy the new areas of the forest that she shows you. You’re pretty sure it’s a ploy to keep you both moving because if you stay still for too long both of your hands wander and there’s going to be a time your luck will run out, especially with how nice it is in the warm weather, so you let her hold you hand and walk through the trees.

“It could be worse,” she teases and you know she’s thinking about Finn even though she never actually says his name. Her jealousy is kind of cute because she knows she has no right to feel it so she ignores it, even if her eyes betray how she genuinely feels inside. “She could have chosen Bellamy Blake.”

You scoff at that because Bellamy is lovely but he isn’t husband material. He lives in a world where he feels he can do what he wants because life is about enjoying the time you have now; and that’s great, but you know you prefer order over chaos. “Or your brother. He’s a catch.”

“He’s obsessed with Octavia,” Lexa smiles and you tug her until she stumbles a little, falling just enough that you can wrap your arms around the slim curve of her waist as she falls into you. “Sorry, Griffin. You’re stuck with me until she finds someone more suitable.”

“Tragic,” you laugh and her words are lost into your mouth, spreading over your tongue as you lick your way into her and you swallow it down. You love her more when she’s like this and it hurts because how can one person make another feel so much all at once?

\---

Lexa brings your impromptu little hike to a halt after another twenty minutes and, honestly, you’re glad for the rest. Your church outfit was worn to impress her, not drag yourself through trees and grass, and you huff a little at being made to do it. She’s standing proudly next to you with her hands on her hips and you reach out without thinking, running your finger along her solid jawline and ear.

“You’re so pretty,” you tell her and you tilt her head a little more skyward, bring her hands to her sides and angle her body to the right. She pretends to be grumpy under your touch but she moves effortlessly, like fluid, and she lets you manhandle her until you’ve decided that it’s perfect. “Stay exactly like that.”

“This isn’t exactly a candid picture of your girlfriend,” she muses as you pull out the camera from your bag and you turn it on as you raise an eyebrow at her. She isn’t looking because she’s still in the position you put her in but the little smirk on her lips lets you know that she’s completely aware of your attitude. “When you become a famous photographer I want to be credited. Lexa Woods: Portraits of a girl forced to look relaxed.”

You click the camera just as she smiles. “Shut up,” you tell her, smiling when she does. “Don’t move.” It doesn’t take long for you to find the best angles, she’s so photogenic it kind of makes you sick, and you take several more before you decide you want a different backdrop. You reload the camera and move her again, sitting her on a fallen tree, and she surprises you when she grasps at the front of your dress to kiss you.

The next picture you take her eyes are dark and decidedly not looking at the camera.

“I want a picture of you,” she decides suddenly, just as you have her waist deep in wild flowers, and she turns to look at you over her shoulder. It stuns you for a second; the light in her hair, how her shoulders are exposed, and you press down the shutter without thinking. “What can I trade you for that camera, Clarke?”

The way she says your name makes you freeze before your body releases one long shiver. “Boobs,” you laugh, not entirely meaning it, but when she narrows her eyes you know she’s considering it. This is a private place, she’d mentioned it as you walked here, but the difference between private and abandoned is so large you can’t consider it and you hold your breath when she reaches up to her straps and pulls them from her shoulders. “Lexa…”

“I really want a picture of you, Clarke,” she says, her face betraying nothing, and your hands grip the camera even tighter as she lets the straps drop and the front of her pretty little summer dress gapes deeply. Your mouth is dry and you have no idea what you’re supposed to do now so you just stare at her, the sound of the zipper dropping down echoing around you, and the only other noise is your gasp as she lets the fabric pool around her hips.  

She’s…

Okay.

“Lexa,” you whine and step closer but the view is immense again and you raise the camera, clicking again to capture the sight in front of you and the camera whirrs loudly. Shadows highlight her dips and curves and muscle grooves and she strands proudly in her underwear like she hasn’t completely blown your world apart. She looks shy but confident, nervous but sure, and she a juxtaposition of everything you love. She doesn’t look surprised that you took a picture but she does laugh a little and reach out to you. “You should cover yourself.”

“Too much?” She asks and you shake your head at her because _no, God no._ She should be naked all the time in your humble opinion. But you don’t want to get caught; your time with her next to the water was almost too risky but you remained clothed with items simply pushed out of the way. Now you can see the shadow of her cleavage and the dip of her stomach and you don’t want another living soul to be able to see that without her consent.

You wrap your arms around her as the camera prints and you take the little image between your fingers, shaking it easily, as you try to not think about her half naked body pressing against your own. “Look at how beautiful you are,” you encourage as the image slowly develops and you feel her shake her head against your shoulder. “I’m so lucky I’m the only one who sees you like this.”

Together you ease the straps of her dress back over her shoulders, like she hasn’t just flashed you in public, but you don’t zip it up and you hand lingers on her warm summer skin. She looks at the picture for a long time before she shifts a little in your arms and takes the camera in her own hands to line up to her own eyes. It’s amateur the way that she holds it but you can’t help but smile, lifting your hands to help her, and you stand back so that she can focus the picture correctly. “How do I look?”

“Like every dream I’ve ever had has come true all at once,” she says and you hear the click of the camera like a period to the end of her sentence.

The picture develops but lays forgotten as you lean in to kiss her deeply, your hands desperate to touch her, and you gasp loudly into her open mouth as she cups your breast over your dress right there in the open space.

It’s not the most sinful thing you’ve ever done with her but you still whisper ‘please’ to a God you’re not sure if you believe in anymore.

\---

Lexa keeps the pictures of the two of you because you can’t ever say no to her. You keep your favourite one; the one where she’s looking at you innocently, right past the camera and into your eyes, with her fingers twisting wildflowers and your heart.

These are your forever memories, you think. And no matter what this town does, or what your mom says, or what people believe they are justified in thinking -- there is nothing that will ever take these memories away from you.

**AUGUST.**

**49.**

Anya _stares_ at you when you stand in the hallway and you don’t have a damn clue what to do. If you look away she’ll know that you’ve seen her sister naked but if you make eye contact she’ll think that you’re gloating about the fact that you’ve seen her sister naked.

And of course you’re now thinking about Lexa naked.

“Hi Clarke,” Aden greets as he runs past in just a t-shirt, his pull-ups making an amusing noise as he runs barefoot across the wooden floor, and you’re about to reply but he’s already taking off into the next room. “Bye Clarke.”

You laugh quietly, “Bye Aden,” you call after him and then turn to the woman that made his life possible. She still looks terrifying but she’s slightly softer after watching you and, really, it doesn’t make or break your relationship with Lexa if she likes you or not but you’d much prefer it if she did. “Uh, hi Anya.”

“Was that a question?”

“I...No?”

She hums a little and tilts her head back as she regards you. It’s kind of unfair how pretty this family is because even when you’re pretty sure Anya is thinking of twenty possible ways to make you disappear, you’re totally distracted by her bone structure. “Where are you two going today?”

“I think we’re just hanging around here,” you say but you’re still not really sure. Lexa had told you the night before to go home and pack something for swimming, a change of clothes, and to come to the Woods house after church. She’d been too distracted when you sent her two images of you in a bikini, asking her to choose which one she prefered, to explain her plans. “She hasn’t really said anything.”

“It’d make sense. Aden and I are going to see his dad today with my mom and dad. Lincoln is probably running around pretending to be married to that Octavia girl,” Anya explains and you hold back from letting her know that is the most amount of words she has ever spoken aloud to you. “Guess Lexa wants the house to herself for once.”

You didn’t know that Anya was still in contact with Aden’s father, Lexa insists her sisters personal life isn’t something she’s willing to talk about without her there, and it makes you preen a little that she’s willing to even mention it to you. You don’t know what Lexa has said to her family but it must have been positive because even if it is still kind of awkward--(being walked in on will do that to the best family, you’re sure)--they haven’t pushed you away either.

“Oh that’ll be nice,” you try and sound like you’re not being sarcastic and Anya snorts at that, her arms folding across her chest and you’re intrigued by the muscles there. In truth you know nothing about the eldest Woods sibling but you do know there’s more to her story than the surface suggests.

“He’s in prison,” she says, no holding back, and you try and not look too shocked but you’re pretty sure you fail when she genuinely smiles at your reaction. Anya gives you a little shrug like she doesn’t care about your opinion--she probably doesn’t--and it only serves to remind you that she’s used to having people judge her. “He’s a good guy really. He just made way too many stupid decisions in a row and it cost him ten years.”

You don’t want to be one of those people, but. “You still let Aden see him?”

“Yes,” she doesn’t look offended but you know there only certain lines you can cross as the girlfriend of her sister and you’re edging a little too close to one of them. “We’re never going to be together again, he knows that, but Aden keeps his mind active. He doesn’t lose himself knowing that he has a little man out here waiting for him, you know? Roan isn’t dangerous, he’s just an idiot. Thought he could make something of himself by taking the easy way.”

“That’s good of you,” you say honestly and she looks almost surprised by your words but you try and not think too heavily on it. The thought that she has had to deal with judgement from such a young age, like Lexa, is heartbreaking. You don’t know Indra but you know you’d never let your children suffer the worst people can give just  your own benefit. “Really.”

She doesn’t say anything but her jaw isn’t as tight when she looks at you and she gives you a quick nod in reply. Her attention is taken by Aden flying past, crying out something about a ‘Choo-Choo’, and she instantly watches him to check he’s okay. “You’re not bad, Griffin,” she says, head tilted away as she watches her son blaze around the kitchen with infinite energy. “You’ll do.”

You almost say thanks but she’s already whipped around and scooped up the excitable boy into her arms, asking him what shorts he wants to wear, and you watch her go with thoughtful eyes.

You think you’ve just gotten Anya’s approval and it feels way better than you ever thought it would.

\---

You can’t look away.

“--And I think that Luna wants us to work together on the project but--”

You _can’t_ look away.

“--Every single time. She works hard but I’m the one who ends up actually presenting it--”

_You cannot look away._

“--I like her and everything but I think I’m just going to work with Ontari--”

At what point did your gentle, shy, softly spoken girlfriend think it was okay to buy the tiniest bikini in the store? You’re scandalized, or you would be if you could feel anything but a dull roar in your lower stomach and a tremble in your hands. She’s glistening with the lotion she’s rubbed onto her skin and her hair is in a lazy bun which only exposes her long neck and you’ve kind of forgotten everything you know about the English language or what the hell Lexa is trying to talk to you about.

“Clarke?”

You hope she’s only said your name once but the smirk on her lips tells you that you’re wrong. So, so wrong. You’re sure that behind those huge aviators she’s looking at you in amusement but you can’t see anything except for your own reflection and you can see, even in those reflective lenses, that you look completely ruined by her.

“I’m not sorry,” you shrug and turn so that you can sit up with your bare feet on the warm concrete as you look at her. She’s stretched out completely on the lounger, soaking up the sun, and you’re suddenly transported to your future where you and her are on your own private beach and have no worries at all surrounding you. “You look hot.”

Her lips tilt at that. “It is rather warm today.”

“Stop,” you smile and move your hand across the short space to run your nail over the flat, tight lines of her stomach. There’s a pretty noise that she lets out when you do that so you do it again because the fact that you can produce such a reaction out of this girl still kind of blows your mind.

“Stop messing up my tan,” she teases right back, taking your hand from her stomach and linking your fingers together. You know it’s not because of ‘tan-lines’ and you know it’s more to do with the fact you were kind of turning her on but you let her do it anyway, her sun-warm hands a little damp in yours. “Sorry if you thought we were going to do something more today. I’ve just come off of my period and feel kind of run down. I hope it’s okay.”

Her eyes are closed, you’re sure, but you smile at her anyway. How she can go from lightly flirting, to looking like a damn sex machine, to being sweet and innocent you don’t know but it makes your brain dizzy in a beautiful way and you’re so addicted to her. “We didn’t have to do anything if you didn’t feel well,” you pout softly as you run your fingers over hers, bringing her hand up to press a kiss to those angelic fingers. “We could have stayed in bed.”

“Staying in bed would have defeated the purpose of relaxing,” her tone is dry and you tilt your head affectionately at her, completely amused. “Besides this is far nicer than staying indoors, right? I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see my boobs.”

“They’re a bonus,” she shrugs and God, you wish people could see this version of Lexa. The relaxed, cheery, joking version of Lexa that has you completely wrapped up in her. The Lexa that kisses as hard as she does soft and who holds you like you’re the most important thing in her possession. They don’t see this side of her; the seventeen year old girl, confused about her future, but happily enjoying time with her girlfriend in the sunshine _because she can._

They see a sinner, a girl begging for the wrong kind of attention because they think her mother doesn’t love her. And it’s wrong. They’re so wrong.

“I love you,” comes out so naturally, so effortlessly, that you’re not even surprised that you’ve said it. You’ve known you’ve loved her for a while and even if she doesn’t love you back, which is hard to believe if you’re being honest, you don’t think you care. Because she needs to know how important she is to you, to everyone, to the world. She needs to understand that she isn’t a girl who made a bad decision. She’s a girl who changes lives and commands entire armies, even if she can’t see that quite yet.

She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes but you’re not scared. She hasn’t let go of your hand but her grip has tightened and you can see the tick in her jaw that tells you she’s trying so hard to swallow down everything she feels.

“Clarke,” she whimpers and you give her space, you let her sit up and take those ridiculously expensive glasses off so that she can look at you. There’s a little furrow in her brow where she’s having to squint in the bright light and you lean forward to soothe it, pressing a soft kiss there. “Do you mean that?”

“How could I not?”

She doesn’t look upset but her eyes fill and she shakes her head like she’s being an idiot but you can’t look away and you’re not going to take the words back. You don’t _need_ her to say them back, even if it would be nice, but you need to know that she’s heard them, that she’s acknowledged them, that she --

“I love you too.”

Oh.

\---

She loves you.

She loves _you._

Lexa loves...Fuck. She loves you.

(You think later that you’ve probably always known that.)

\---

You’re in Lexa’s pool when you finally make the decision. You’re floating on your back, your eyes following few sparse clouds in the blue sky, and it hits you that you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. School is great, your friends are amazing, you’re in love and you’ve found a passion in photography you didn’t think you had in you. Things are going well and there’s something large inside of you that wants to get out, that makes you want to grip Lexa’s skin tightly and scream and jump and run and shout. It’s exciting and innocent and pure; it’s not sinful or wrong or disgusting. It’s not heinous and you’re not either.

You love a girl who loves you back and there’s nothing wrong with that.

With the knowledge that you have the love of your friends--Raven at the very least, probably Bellamy too--and the love of your dad, you make the decision.

“I’m going to tell my mom,” you announce without looking towards the edge of the pool to your girlfriend. Her face when you’d asked her to join you in the pool had been adorable, a little scrunch of her nose, but her motive was obvious when you saw her unable to take her gaze away from the droplets on your stomach. “About me. Us.”

She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and you risk looking over at her. Her legs are dipped into the pool below her knees and she has her hands braced on the warm concrete around the side of the pool. You can’t quite decide what she’s thinking because her aviators are covering her eyes and her expression is as neutral as it always is, her body relaxed as it usually is after hours in the sun.

“Is that okay?”

She shakes her head at that and your stomach drops for a second before she slips into the water, the edge skimming above her little belly button, and she indicates for you to move closer. “C’mere,” she says quietly and, like a slave to her, you shift in the water and wade closer. “You know it’s not up to me to say whether you should tell your mom or not, right? This is your decision.”

“I know,” you nod, because she’s right, but she’s part of this took and if you say something she could end up affected as a result of the fallout. “But in the worst case scenario where my mom announces to the entire town that I’m a disappointment and seeking attention from elsewhere, I can make sure that she leaves your name out of it.”

“Clarke,” Lexa murmurs and you lift her aviators because you miss her eyes and she smiles at you when you prop them on the top of her head. “The entire town knows about me already. I don’t think there are many more names left to call me.”

Your heart breaks a little at that and you pout in annoyance _for_ her before wrapping your arms around her shoulders, smirking a little when she flinches at the cool water dropping from your forearms onto her chest, and she drops her hands below the water to rest on your hips where the tie to your bikini lays. “Don’t say that,” you finally whisper to her and you brush your lips across hers slowly, not quite meeting in a kiss but firm enough that you feel grounded, and she flicks her eyes to you at your words. It takes you a second to say it because you’ve only ever said the word out loud a few times, less than you can count on one hand, but she’s looking at you like you can do anything and so you take a deep breath. “I want to come out to my mom as bisexual. She needs to know and I want her to know. I’m not ashamed of it. I’m just tired and scared; but I know who I am.”

“I know,” she smiles and you gasp as she reaches under the water, lifting you to rest on her hips with the ease of the pool surrounding you, and you smirk down at her from your new height. “This is important to you and I’m going to trust you to do what you think is best. If you think telling her about us is going to make it worse then I’m okay with her not knowing. But, Clarke, just know that I’m not ashamed either. You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

“Lame,” you giggle, pressing your lips against hers in a kiss that’s messy because of your smiles.You love it when that happens; when you can kiss properly because you’re smiling too hard, or laughing too long, or moaning too deeply. It reminds you who she is, that she’s your best friend and your girlfriend and your lover all at once. “Can I let you know? I want to see how it goes. If she takes it okay then I’ll tell her, I promise.”

She kisses you once more because you’re hers and it ripples inside of you. “As long as you’re safe and okay then that’s all I care about Clarke. If you feel like you can do this then do it. This is your choice.”

“I love you,” you groan, just so she knows, and she smiles widely. The moment her fingers slip beneath your bikini bottom is the exact time you bring her in for a deep kiss, your fingers tangling in her hair and the nails from your other hand leaving white lines on her shoulders where you’re dragging against her. You gasp as she grips you tighter and you feel her body tense where your thighs are wrapped around her. “Tonight,” you say quickly and she nods hazily, like she’s forgotten what you’re talking about, and it makes you smirk. “I’m going to tell her tonight.”

“Do it when you’re ready,” she tells you and you’re impressed with how supportive she’s being when you can feel her hips begging to meet yours and her eyes are so dark. “There’s no pressure from me.”

You hum at that and kiss her again, because she’s yours, and you feel her jolt under you.

You might as well do _something_ worth risking it all for, right?

\---

It’s just your mom left.

Lexa’s family know. Your friends are pretty sure of it, you know. Your dad knows.

You remind yourself that Lexa is proud of you, that she believes in you, that she knows how brave you are and you open the front door to your house with a confidence you didn’t think you’d have right in this moment.

**50.**

There’s something comforting about sitting in a quiet church and waiting for Pastor Jaha to set up. Your mom is outside talking to one of the hundreds of women who have made it their life's work to put down girls like you and the feeling settles like lava in your throat. You’d tried to tell your mom last Sunday like you had so desperately promised Lexa but Abby had told you that she was working an extra shift after an accident in a factory and then you’d spiraled a little, unable to say the words you so honestly wanted to say.

“Hey Clarke,” sounds out next to you and you feel a presence next to you. The familiar cologne of Wells washes over your senses and you inhale deeply, savoring it a little before you inevitably lose him too, and you close your eyes. Wells has been nothing but supportive of you; given your shared experience of being an only child with expectation on their shoulders. But you don’t know how he’ll react when your mom turns on you. “Are you okay?”

You nod once and sigh. “Just thinking.”

“Mind if I join you? My mind has been rather busy too,” he says and it makes you smiles. He’s a gentle soul, older than he appears, and you swallow down this version of Wells. The one that gives you little happy butterflies because he _likes_ you, because he wants to be your friend and nothing more despite your parents. Because he understands.

“It’s a free world,” you smile and he hums at that like he wants to argue that it’s **not** a free world, not at all, and it sparks a little hope in you. “Wells. Can I tell you something?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, long enough for you to open your eyes, and when you turn to him you can see that he’s looking at his father as he sets up for the service. It’s practically silent in the church but your voices echo and carry around you and you wonder if he knows what you’re going to say judging by the worry clouding his eyes.

“Sure. You wanna speak here?”

“Mm,” you nod. This is important because as much as religion can irritate you, and some of the teachings leave you feeling more hopeless than hopeful, you love the comfort it brings. You love God, and you love Lexa. And you want your friend to know. “Do you think I’m a good person, Wells?”

He starts a little at that and you watch as his eyes widen and he turns to look at you with a determined glare. “Yes. I think you’re an amazing person, Clarke.”

You try and think about how you came out to Raven before remembering you _didn’t._ You remember she pretty much worked it out, could see in your eyes that you had something hidden, and that seemed to be the pattern. Octavia, Lincoln, Raven -- you never _came out._ It happened naturally, with the exception of your dad, and you feel nervous all of a sudden.

“I’m bisexual, Wells,” you rush out and it all blends into one seemingly long word. You say it so quickly, so fast, that you wonder if he even heard what you said but his eyes glint a little at the words and you know he understood. “I wanted you to --”

“Is this because of Lexa? I’ve seen you a few times around the town.”

Your heart sinks a little at that because Wells is lovely, and kind, and smart, and he has the prettiest smile. But his first instinct was to _blame_ Lexa and it hurts. It hurts so much. Because you trusted him to be okay with this and he’s completely dismissed your confession to focus on something else, something you didn’t even _mention,_ and you’re lost for a second.

“No. I mean...Yes, kind of. But no, because I’m telling you about me. Not Lexa.”

He sighs a little and brings his large hand to his forehead, fingers working at his temple, and his eyes don’t meet yours as they skim around the room for a few seconds. “She can be very convincing…”

“Don’t,” you growl out and you stand quickly, gaining the attention of Pastor Jaha who looks across with something akin to knowing on his face. “Don’t you dare say that. This is me, Wells. This is who I am and Lexa has _nothing_ to do with that. How can you even say that?”

He hisses at your volume but you pull yourself away when he reaches out for you. “I just think after Finn that maybe you could be looking for something --”

“And what? Lexa saw I needed comforting and jumped right on that? You know her, Wells. You know me --” You trail off because you don’t want to think badly of Wells, even if he thinks badly of you, and he didn’t say anything outwardly violent or rude about Lexa. “I thought you were more than this shitty town mentality.”

“No, Clarke. I’m just worried that you’re not thinking this through, okay? Calm down. Do you know what this means?”

You scoff. “Yeah, it means you’re a small-minded bigot I wish I never assumed I could say anything to,” there are tears building in your eyes because, up until now at least, people have been supportive and now you don’t know what to do. “God, I thought you were my friend.”

He stands quickly, desperation coating his features, and you take a step back. Your thigh hits the pew and you hiss a little as your skin immediately bruises under your skirt, a red patch distracting you for a second. “I am, I’m your friend Clarke,” he insists and you furrow your brow as you feel a warm droplet hit your cheek. “I just think that, maybe, you could be projecting what you feel for Lexa into something more. That maybe you’re rushing into this and labeling something that isn’t there yet. You can’t take this back, Clarke. Once you say this then that’s it, okay? And the town? They won’t let something like this go, you’ll have to carry that label forever. I don’t want that for you -- Lexa’s life, I mean. You don’t deserve that. Not when you don’t have to live like that. You can just stay quiet and nobody will have to know.”

You think that perhaps dying would be easier than hearing these things but instead you let yourself get angry. “Fuck you, Wells,” you scoff and you see, out of your peripherals, Pastor Jaha start making his ways towards you. “This is who I am and it has nothing to do with Lexa at all. She’s mine, and I’m hers, but even if that wasn’t the case this is who I am and I can’t believe I ever thought I could trust you with something like this.” Your voice cracks with tears and you turn away before Pastor Jaha can reach you.

“Clarke, please…”

“Don’t ever speak to me again,” you scoff and you briefly wonder how much time you have before everyone walks inside to start the service. “I really thought you were one of the good guys.”

When you leave you leave Wells standing in the same place.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

\---

**Lexa Woods:**

You look sad. Who do I need to destroy?

**Clarke Griffin:** ****  
Nobody. But I wouldn’t be against you  
holding me extra tight today.

**Lexa Woods:** **  
** Your wish is my command.

**Clarke Griffin:** ****  
Good.  
Do you like my dress today? I picked   
it for you.

**Lexa Woods:** ****  
You have no idea, Griffin.  
Now eyes forward. Service is about to start

\---

You spend most of the service avoiding everyone's eyes.

Your mom notices and tuts a little next to you, her elbow knocking into yours in a less than subtle way to tell you to sit up, and you blink a few times but you can’t stop thinking about Wells. Kind, beautiful, reliable Wells who managed to completely knock you out with his views and it only serves to make your eyes tear up again. There’s a movement in your right peripheral and you don’t have to look to know that Lexa is sending you a concerned look; you can practically feel the furrow of her brow, taste the pout in her lips. It hurts too because you know she’s hurting for you and all you want is to wrap yourself around her, in her arms, surround yourself in her scent but apparently that’s the wrong thing to want and it _hurts._

_\---_

“Clarke, what on Earth has gotten into you recently?”

Abby barely waits a second once you leave the church to begin scolding you. You’re not even sure what it is that you did so wrong but you let her storm ahead in her clear annoyance. Just a few more minutes, you think. A few minutes and then you can sneak away and be with Lexa and feel like a normal human being again. Next to you your dad makes a little noise and puts his hand on your shoulder but Abby is adamant that you’ve been rude and it does nothing as she turns around, ensuring to keep her voice low and out of the range of people listening.

“You’ve not said a word to anybody all week and today, in church, you ignored everyone who possibly approached you,” she continues and you know well enough to not argue, to not call her out that nobody actually approached you or your family. You don’t want to be the one to tell her that nobody really cares enough about Abby Griffin beyond the superficial. There were smiles sent your way, polite as always, but you’re not in the mood to humor the hypocrites today “Come on, let’s go and speak to Wells. The poor boy has been looking at you all service and you’ve done nothing but avoid him.”

You roll your eyes, already irritated. “Mom, I don’t _want_ to talk to him,” spits out of you more viciously than you really planned it to in your mind but it’s out now, even if it has made your dad look at you with a small quirk to his brow.

“Have you had a falling out? Oh, honey,” she coos and you wriggle closer to your dad as she steps forward like she thinks she needs to comfort you. It’s like she’s figured something out about you, that she’s connected your distance to the fact you have fallen out with a _boy,_ and it digs at you. You might not have the closest relationship with your mom but surely, surely, _surely,_ she can see that this is more than boy problems that millions of magazines give advice about every week. She looks practically excited that she’s figured out the root of your problems and, suddenly, she’s your best friend. “Don’t let yourself stay too mad at him, Clarke. Guys don’t like that, especially when they don’t know what they’ve done to deserve the wrath of a woman.”

She gives you a little wink, like you’re supposed to be in on some secret, and you scoff. “He knows what he’s done.”

“Well you shouldn’t go to bed angry,” she continues, ignoring your scowl and crossed arms. She practically dismisses your clear sadness, sure that if you just go and speak to Wells everything will be okay. Like magic. “We never do, do we honey?”

You look up at your dad because, sometimes, listening to your mom is exhausting. Sometimes it makes you want to scream your truth out; sometimes you want to yell at her that you’re in love with the most irresistible girl and that you can’t stand the thought of being around Wells right now because he’s a homophobic little shit. You can’t do that though.

Not yet.

“Arguments can be resolved with a little communication,” he says easily, straddling both of his worlds between you and your mom and you feel bad for him. You want this to end for you, for Lexa. For your dad. “Being angry wastes precious smiles. And yours is the most precious one of all.”

You blush a little and press your head against his shoulder in embarrassment. His laugh makes you smile harder but you shake your head, still avoiding your mom. “It’s a little more than an argument this time, dad.”

“Ah,” he says, fingers squeezing you a little, and a part of you hopes his aftershave rubs off on you so that you can carry a little part of him around all day for comfort.

Then again, you think,Lexa takes any opportunity to crawl all over you and you end up smelling like her perfume anyway so the whole thing is pointless. At least you’ll get to carry around one of your favourite people either way.

“Nonsense,” your mother scoffs and you feel the dread pool a little in your stomach. In the time it takes for you to cast a needy glance up to your dad, Abby is already calling Wells across to your group and you feel a little better when he hesitates in coming forwards. His eyes are downcast, face stoic, and when he finally approaches you he keeps his distance which you’re more than glad for. It’s your mom--(of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?)--who breaks the awkward silence. “Your father held a wonderful service today.”

“Thank you Mrs. Griffin,” he says politely, bowing his head a little. “I’ll make sure to tell him.”

You look around and you feel a heat building inside you, a strangled annoyance that you’re getting more and more frustrated that you can’t let out. You want to scream at them that they’re all so, so, _so fucking fake._ That they’re full of pretend smiles, and thinly-veiled compliments, but the second someone's back is turned their vicious as all hell. Your mom is the worst but Wells had shocked you in that church, by his words, whispering like your sexuality, _like your person,_ is something to be ashamed about.

It’s not. You know it’s not.

It’s who you are.

And the fact that Wells, the person who is so beautiful and so trustworthy, thinks like the rest of them? It kills you. He wasn’t supposed to be a sheep. He was supposed to be a friend.

“I should go,” Wells finally says, noticing you’re unwilling to speak, and you ignore the look your mother gives you. You scoff a little; it’s not like she can be _shocked_ that you don’t want to talk to him. “I have prior commitments that I must attend to. Thank you for coming today.”

Abby reaches you and you tense so harshly that your dad steps back for a second. “Wells. I know you and Clarke here have had a minor disagreement,” she says and you and Wells both wince at the same time; him in fear, you in irritation. She puts her hand on his arm and you wish, just for one second, that she could treat you as gently as she treats everyone else in the world. “So I’m sure she’s forgotten to mention we’re having a little party for her birthday at the end of the month, you know how stubborn she can be.”

She jostles Wells like he’s part of some inside joke, like you’re something they both have to put up with and you shuffle on your feet. It’s your dad--(thank Heavens for your dad)--who steps forward. “Abby, we haven’t made any real plans yet --”

“Hush now,” she waves him off and he grunts out his annoyance rather than holding it in like you do. It’s probably a little healthier the way he does it. “It’ll be at the end of the month and you’re invited of course. And your father.”

Finally, you snap. “No you’re not,” you seethe and you manage to completely ignore the look your mother gives you and your dad’s soft ‘Clarke’. “You’re not invited, Wells. Or your dad. None of you are because there isn’t a chance in Hell I’m spending _my_ birthday with someone like you.”

“Young lady…”

You cut your mom off with a noise you didn’t think existed inside of you. You look every inch a stroppy teen; anger rising from your throat in a frustrated growl, your feet practically stomping, your hands raised at a terrified looking Wells. It’s not fair, this whole thing isn’t fair, and you’re overwhelmed and emotional and you want Lexa.

You just want Lexa.

And to maybe sob for hours because how can people be so cruel?

“I don’t want you at my birthday. I don’t want you anywhere near me,” you direct your anger at Wells because he’s the cause of it, or at least the cause of it today, and he nods rapidly because he looks like he doesn’t know what else to do. But you’re so mad at _everyone,_ at anybody who even thinks like him, at anyone who thinks that who you are should be hidden. That you should _think_ about admitting who you are as though it’ll be a mistake. Like you haven’t laid awake for minutes, hours, _days,_ agonizing over the very fact you might be different to everyone else. Like you have to be quiet now that you’ve found someone you want to tell everyone about. You hate this town and you hate him. “Wells, I don’t even want you to look at me. Do you understand?”

“Clarke,” your dad’s comforting hand on your shoulder does nothing for your anger and you shake him off, tears staining your cheeks, and all you can think is that it doesn’t matter anymore. No matter how many people love you like your dad does, or Raven does, or Lexa does, people will still think you’re a bad person and it _hurts._ You feel like a child thinking that but it really, really, hurts. “Kid, c’mon. Let’s go home.”

People are looking and you know they are. Wells is stood in front of you, scared and lost, and you want to smirk because you’ve felt that way for months before Lexa kissed you. He swallows thickly before turning to your mom with a soft, “Mrs. Griffin,” in parting and he turns away as the congregation begin to murmur and start rumors. Their voices are low and it’s like a deep hum surrounding you as they stare and talk and whisper and judge.

You hate them so much.

Lexa is standing near the doors with Lincoln but you can’t look at her yet. She’s your rock, the one who will stay strong under your tsunami of emotions, and if you look at her now you’ll fall to your knees right there in the church grounds. You can wait for her just a little longer,  even if it looks like she’s bouncing on her toes in anticipation of getting to you.

“What has gotten into you?” Abby hisses and when you look at her you can see just how much trouble you’re in. Her cheeks are pink and flushed with embarrassment of being the source of negative attention, her eyes are blazing and focused all too entirely on you. “That was entirely inappropriate.”

“You know we’re not talking mom. Why are you pushing this? What makes you think inviting someone I cannot bare to look at is going to have any other outcome than the one that just happened?”

She steps closer and it’d be threatening if you knew she wasn’t only doing it so you couldn’t be overheard. “We’ll talk about this more at home, Clarke. Wells is a remarkable young man. He --”

“Then _you_ talk to him,” you snap, completely over her and this ridiculous conversation. You want your river and your camera and your girlfriend. “I don’t want to speak to him. I don’t want to make up with Finn. I don’t want playdates with Bellamy, okay? Do you get it now? It was funny at first but I’m not some Barbie doll you can match up with your favourite Ken. I’m your daughter.”

The murmuring around you doesn’t stop. If anything it gets louder as the clench of your mother's jaw gets stronger and you wonder if this is it, if this is the moment she slaps you and tells you to just behave. To just do as she says. But you’re tired of it. You’re a good person, you’re nice, and she’s your mom. Shouldn’t she love you the way you are?

“I know exactly who you are, Clarke.”

You laugh at that, though it’s mostly an expulsion of air at how wrong she is, and you shake your head. “You haven’t known me for a very long time, mom,” you say and it’s not mean. You’re sad.

When you walk away and she doesn’t call after you, doesn't even try to follow you, you know it’s because she doesn’t want the extra attention.

You don’t know if that hurts or not.

\---

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” echoes in your mind as Lexa kisses down your neck, her whispered words chasing away all of the hurt you’ve felt over the last few hours, and you cling to her tighter beneath the trees.

Nothing, you think, will ever take this away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any questions please find me at brokendevilwrites.tumblr.com. And leave a comment if you'd like. Thanks :)


	6. August - September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're done. This is it. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this. You make my heart sing.
> 
> As always, I'll come back and edit later.

**51.**

“So I heard you and your mom had a pretty big fight last week. Is it true that she slapped you and then threw you out onto the street because you broke up with Wells Jaha? Because that’s what everyone is saying.”

You look up from your book, completely startled at the intrusion, and don’t even think to stop the smile on your face as you look at Bellamy and Raven approaching you. _Of Mice and Men_ forgotten, you stand up and rush towards the two to grasp them into a hug you hadn’t known you needed until you felt it. Lexa is everything to you, and even more than that, but sometimes you wish you had others to speak to and it’s refreshing to hear the deep laughter of Bellamy and the feel the firm arms of Raven surround you.

“What are you two doing here? I thought you’d both be settling into dorms and things by now,” you grin, cheeks hurting a little from your wide smile, and you’re not ignorant to the look that the couple share. “Wait.”

“No,” Raven starts but she’s giggling, actually giggling, and Bellamy rolls his eyes before he puts his arm around the girl's shoulders. He presses a kiss to her temple with such ease that you actually feel jealous but Raven winces a little in jest and pulls her head away, face contorted into feigned annoyance. “Whatever. This guy couldn’t go a month without seeing me. It’s pretty understandable but kind of needy too, you know?  I came back to spend the weekend with him. And since he’s at Polis U and working in Ton DC we figured a trip home couldn’t hurt since I doubt either of us will be back until Thanksgiving. We’ve sort of been doing a bit of travelling around until we really move in, so.”

“I’m so glad to see you both,” you breathe out and you make a note to not comment too much on their relationship because it looks kind of new and Raven isn’t the type of girl to talk about things like that.

Bellamy makes a noise like he understands and gives you a look, his understanding eyes making it hard to look away, and you bite your lip a little as he tilts his head at you. “Everything okay, Griffin?”

“Mm,” you lie and the look Raven gives you lets you know that neither of them believe you. So, for the infinite time, you take a breath and wonder if you’ll ever go a day where you won’t have to come out. “I told Wells I was bisexual and he didn’t exactly have the best reaction to it. I told him I never wanted to speak to him again.”

You’re not sure if Octavia, or Raven, told Bellamy your secret but to his credit he doesn’t really react with anything more than sympathy and he presses his lips together. “I always figured he was a bit of a wet blanket anyway,” he finally says and it’s so awkward, so random to you coming out in the middle of the street, that it actually makes you laugh.

“Yeah, well, my mom thinks he’s a gift to the Earth and she tried to invite him to my birthday next week,” you shrug, still giggling a little, and you run your hand through your hair in frustration. It would have been perfect, you think, to have told her about you and Lexa then and there but you want her to find out naturally and not blame it on high running emotions or you wanting the upper hand. And you hate that you’re thinking that way, but God. It’s hard not to. “I’d invite you both but I don’t actually think we’re doing anything now since I yelled at my mom in front of everyone and she’s trying to save face by acting like it didn’t happen. Instead it’s some family thing which is mostly so that people can’t come to our house and watch us being fake-happy.”

Raven laughs at that and you grin, happy to have made your friend happy. “Fuck, I don’t miss this damn place at all,” she admits and you look at her, wondering if leaving really is as good as she’s making it look. “You’ve just got to deal for one more year, Griffin. Then you and your lady-love can do your thing whenever, _wherever_ , you want.”

“If you last that long,” Bellamy points out and immediately flinches at the backhand Raven directs to his chest. “Shit, Rae. What the hell?”

She scowls and you laugh.

You hate it’s so easy sometimes because it only serves to remind you how hard it can be too.

\---

Bellamy and Raven leave to meet Aurora for lunch a few minutes later just before Lexa walks up, almost as if they planned it, and you’re so distracted by the way her legs stretch out from the hem of her denim shorts that you forget to greet her at all. She giggles at you like she knows exactly where your mind has gone but you don’t deny it and you jog to catch up to her as you both head towards your spot beyond the trees and next to the water. Neither of you are shy about being seen together as much anymore, not since your outburst at church, but she still limits where she’ll meet you. Today it’s at the bus stop just before the path towards the nature trail and you don’t mind it as much as you used to; now you’ve had a taste of the hypocrisy she really faces, you understand her need to stay private.

You think that maybe that makes you selfish, the fact it’s taken until now to understand what she’s going through, and you wonder what she thinks about you for it. If maybe she thinks you’re a little selfish too.

But negative thoughts aren’t for Sunday’s, they aren’t for any day that you have her loving gaze, and the second that the green trees begin to shadow the two of you you reach for her hand.

“You weren’t at service today,” she recalls quietly but there’s a little twinge to her voice that makes you twitch. It always hangs an octave lower when she’s been speaking for a long time and it never fails to tighten your stomach. She’s probably had a full day of smiling and talking and pretending she cares, and you’re sort of sad you missed watching her in action.“I missed you. Quite a bit actually.”

You hum a little and let your fingers tangle with hers again and again. She doesn’t complain. “After last week I couldn’t face it,” you admit and you try and not picture your dad's disappointed face when you told him you didn’t want to go. You can see the weariness in his eyes at the cold atmosphere in his house between you and your mom and you feel bad. Home should be a haven and you’re making it hard for him. _Soon,_ you promise to him in your prayers. You’ll fix it soon. “No doubt my mom will be ready to call me out as soon as she finds out I didn’t attend.”

Lexa rubs her thumb against yours and you smile when she brings your hand up to press a kiss against your fingers. “Don’t think about that right now,” she says softly and you agree. She’s wearing a floaty white top that shows off her shoulders and there’s a sweet glint in her eyes that tells you that you shouldn’t be thinking of anything but _her_ right now. “Where was your mom though? I only saw your dad at service today. He came over and said hi to us all. I think Anya has a bit of a crush on him because it’s the first time I’ve seen her giggle in a long time.”

Tiny shorts and tanned shoulders do _nothing_ to distract you from that disturbing thought and you shudder a little at anyone, even Anya, having a crush on your dad.

He’s, like, a dad.

Ew.

“That’s gross, Lexa.”

She laughs at that and tugs you closer, both sets of feet stepping over familiar uneven ground without really having to look down anymore. “I don’t blame her,” she says and you can hear that delectable smirk in her voice, that one that makes you quiver and desperate to bite at her lips. “I can see it.”

“Babe, you’re gay,” you tut behind a smile and you can practically feel the eye roll at your sarcastic words. She doesn’t particularly like pet names like that and you know between your silly comment, and calling her babe, she’s going to get you back.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t tell when people are attractive,” Lexa sasses and she teases her fingers back between yours before you’re busy playing with them again. “Your dad is a very good looking man, Clarke. I’m a lesbian, _babe,_ not blind.”

You’ve had enough but you’re laughing heartily when you stop both of you from moving forward and you use her momentary distraction to push your weight into her, backing her against a tree. She’s laughing prettily and you’re so damn addicted that you lean in and steal a quick kiss, effectively silencing her. “Stop talking about my dad now,” you order and the sun is high enough in the sky that you can see the second her eyes darken, the very moment she makes a decision.

“Make me,” she breathes into your mouth and _fuck._

\---

The thing with Lexa is she knows exactly when you need your space.

Of all the things in the world that bring you comfort, and there are a few, you know that you can always find them in her. You’ve always been able to, even before you loved her, but you’re own independence is important to you too. They say when babies cry you sometimes need to leave them, that they should be taught to self-soothe, and you don’t know if you ever had that but you’re learning now. You’re aware you’ve been hurt; by Wells, by your mom, by Finn’s complete detachment and Octavia’s need to always win. When Lexa is around you don’t feel it as harshly but you let yourself feel it today. It’s soothing, purifying.

She’s standing next to the water and you hold your camera like always. It’s slowly become a part of your person and you feel better when it hangs around your neck, the weight of it almost like another limb, and you prop your legs up on your little backpack that holds your book from earlier and a few snacks for you both. You watch as she tilts her head a little at the fast running water, her eyes focused on something, and for a second everything goes silent. The rush of the water, the rustle of the leaves, the singing of the birds; it all disappears and you focus on her. Her hair is down today, a little wavy from the shower you know she took late because Anya was hogging it, and she’s wearing strappy sandals that are definitely more for show than comfort.

It’s less scary to admit who you are when you look at her and you know it’s because she gives you the strength to be unafraid. You hope she feels the same.

There’s a moment when she runs her hand through her hair, her back muscles showing slightly through the thin material, and you inhale sharply that this girl is yours. She’s yours. She wants to be yours and it kind of blows your mind and inflates your ego all at the same time.

You’re not an idiot; you’re both young, you still have college ahead of you, there’s distance and arguments and jealous moments you’re sure will eventually come up when you slowly fall from this honeymoon phase you’re in, but you want it all. You want the bad with the good, the ugly with the pretty, and you don’t want to do it with anyone else.

Even as she begins walking towards you, a glint in her eyes that tells you neither of you will be talking for a little while, you can’t help but think this girl has changed your life.

No matter what happens, no matter what you lose, you’re so thankful you’ve met her.

\---

Her hands run up your sides like your a work of art and she’s the only person allowed to touch. It’s delicate and soft and everything her mouth isn’t. She’s a quiet girl, unassuming, but her kisses demand so much more than that. They’re strong, accelerated by a need to control and be controlled. You know her shoulders ache from the weight she bears but when she’s on top of you, her hips pressing tight against yours, her moans hot and eager in your mouth, she relaxes. She melts into you.

“Shit,” you pant, your eyes rolling back and your mouth slack as her lips move down your jaw and your neck. Your own fingers tighten in her hair and you arch up into her, pulsing deeply as she slips a thigh between your legs just enough that you see stars and colours and shapes you didn’t know existed. Your neck cranes as you try and control what you’re feeling but it’s too much and she rocks down firmly again, moaning against your skin. “Lexa, _shit._ ”

You’d be okay if she would just stop grinding into you but when she pulls away from kissing you, propping herself onto her hands, it only serves to press more weight against the space between your legs. “You need to be quiet,” she scolds and lifts one hand, running it against your lower lip. You should hate it; there’s gravel against her fingers, dirt in her nails where she digs into the ground instead of your body, but you revel in it. The neediness, the dirt. “As sexy as it is, you’re making it hard to control myself around you when I can hear you.”

“Okay, okay,” you hurry and you tug at her hair to bring her back down to your mouth. There’s a flick in her eyes and her mouth slackens, wet and swollen, and you stare for too long. “We don’t have to talk then,, Lexa. Kiss me again.”

And she does, she does, she does.

\---

“...Clarke? Are you listening?”

When you focus again you’re at the dinner table and both of your parents are looking at you. There’s a half eaten dinner in front of you that you don’t remember eating and your dad is refilling the glass in front of you with water you don’t remember drinking. In your mind you’re still there, still with her, and it’s so vivid that you can feel the sun on your skin and her fingers in your hair. She’s there, but she’s not, and it makes you stronger.

“Sorry,” you finally cough out and your mom narrows her eyes at you a little, a sight you’re very much used to now and you place your cutlery down on your plate to show you’re listening. “I’m just tired. What were you saying?”

“Running around town will do that to a person I suppose,” Abby tuts and your heart stops for a second at the thought you could have been so distracted by Lexa that you hadn’t noticed your mom driving past. It’s impossible, you think, the trail you walk up is on the opposite side of town to the hospital where your mom has been working an emergency shift all weekend. There’s no way she saw. “Bellamy mentioned he spoke to you this afternoon. I would have thought you’d have been at church.”

“She wasn’t feeling very well this morning. I let her sleep in,” your dad says and the guilt bubbles a little more at him coming to your rescue again. He sounds so tired and it breaks your heart a little. “She didn’t do anything wrong, Abby.”

Your mom hums a little like she doesn’t believe you and it’s quiet for all of ten seconds before she starts up again. “I just find it funny that she was feeling so unwell that she couldn’t leave the house to attend church but she could leave to meet up with friends.”

“Abby, enough,” your dad grunts and you drop your gaze to the table. You don’t want to be the cause of their arguments, you don’t want to be a burden, but you can see how much strain it’s putting on you all. Your dad is loving and loyal and kind and you know he’s only doing this for you, but you’re better now. You know who you are. “ _She’s_ sitting at our table and her name is Clarke. Can we please just have one civil family dinner. Just one.”

“I’m sorry, dad,” you apologise, even if you’re not sure what for, and you pick up your knife and fork again in an attempt to try and calmly eat something. He gives you a thankful look before he sighs and rubs his fingers against his temple, his elbow on the table as he does so.

“I’m sorry that asking about my daughter’s whereabouts is such a crime,” Abby continues and you freeze again because she just can’t drop it, _won’t_ drop it, and you know where this is going. There’s going to be arguments and slammed doors and you’re going to choke on a mixture of guilt and your tears. “I didn’t realise that I couldn’t ask a simple question.”

“Jesus, Abby, it’s not a question. You’re interrogating her.”

“By _asking_ where she spent her day? Jake, open your eyes. She pretended to be sick and disappeared off to God knows where the second your back was turned. It’s a simple question and I’d like an answer. We can’t both continue to live in ignorance of our daughters changing behaviour. One of us have to do something.”

Your dad slams his knife down onto his plate, the cracking noise making you jump and you watch your mom's jaw snap shut. It’s rare your dad gets angry. The last time you saw it you were at your grandparents lake house and you stepped too close to the end of the boat and he ran over towards you yelling. He shouts when he’s scared, when he’s stressed, and you know you’ve hit a limit. “Like you never kept things from your parents. She’s a teenager, Abby. Let her be one. She has good grades, nice friends, she toes the line. What more do you want?”

“There are rules in my house --”

“This is my house too!”

The tears are building quicker than you can stop them and you can feel your fingers shaking, your knuckles white from where you’re gripping your knife and fork, and you stare at the table as your parents get slowly louder. This isn’t the first argument over you and you know it. You might not have been there for all of them but this sounds familiar; it sounds like they’ve had this argument before and you’re finding it hard to breathe.

“If I ask a question, I expect an answer. This is ongoing, Jake. Lying, acting out, not being herself,” finally, _finally,_ she acknowledges that you’re in the room and stops speaking like you don’t exist. She tries to reach across but the tension between the three of you is too high, too broken, and she leaves her hand just a few inches from yours.  “I just want to know what’s going on with you, Clarke. I miss talking to you.”

You glance quickly to your dad who looks torn. He looks like he’s desperate to stop fighting, to just be honest, but he looks like he’d keep feeling like this until you’re ready. He gives you a little smile, the same one you’ve seen in pictures of yourself with Lexa, and you blink away the tears.

It falls onto your cheek before you look back to your mom, you lips trembling. “I want to talk to you too,” you finally whisper and she looks shocked but willing and she nods quickly, pushing her plate away like that will give you her full attention. “Mom, I --”

You pause and you feel your dad take your hand, “Clarke. You don’t have to --”

You close your eyes and you can see the sun, taste her kiss, feel her touch.

She makes you brave.

“I’m bisexual,” you rush out in one breath, one long sigh that kind of blends your words together into a hushed fragment of honesty, and when you find the courage to open your eyes again your mom hasn’t moved. You don’t think you’ve ever realised how long a second can take until now. “Mom? Can you say something please?”

It takes less than thirty seconds for your mom to stand up and leave the table.

It takes less than a minute for you to realise you’ve broken your family.

\---

Neurotic is one way that you’d describe your mother but you’re still surprised when, after sitting at the silent table for the longest hour of your life, you go upstairs and find her cleaning the bathroom. It’s eight in the evening and you’re shocked into stillness at the image of your mother, her hair in a messy bun, on her hands and knees scrubbing at the shower floor.

She left you and you want to walk away from her but this feels too important. You can feel your phone vibrating against your thigh and you know it’s Lexa because you usually Facetime at this time each evening, but you can’t let this image go and you tighten your lips before knocking softly on the wooden frame of the doorway. In front of you, you watch her flinch and you’re thunderstruck at the thought of something so simple to you completely terrifying her.

“Mom?”

She huffs out a breath and you step closer into the clinically clean room. The smell of bleach clogs your other senses and you try to not wince at the thought of her in here, oblivious to her cleaning, and you stand with your hands clasped in front of you as you wait for her patiently. “I’m busy, Clarke. Can this wait?”

“The bathroom is pretty much clean,” you say softly. It’s softer than anything you think you’ve ever spoken before--even with Lexa--but she doesn’t respond, her arm moving rhythmically as she scrubs and scrubs and scrubs. You don’t know what to do because on one hand you want to apologise and comfort her, you want to make it better, but this is who you are and it hurts and you’re scared and you want your mom. “I want to talk to you about this.”

She stops for a second but then resumes, harsher this time. “I’m cleaning.”

“We have a cleaner for that.”

“She doesn’t do it well enough.”

You sigh because you aren’t getting anywhere and you sit on the side of the bathtub, ignorant to the annoyed sound she lets out, and you play with a loose piece of string on your jeans. “I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear but I’m not sorry I told you,” you whisper, the only other sound than your voice being the harsh bristles of the brush as she works it over tile. “I’m not ashamed about this but it’s been killing me keeping this from you.”

She says nothing but you know she’s listening from the way her body tilts towards you, her ear facing you now.

“Mom, I don’t want this to be a big deal between us,” you plead quietly and your eyes fill at the same time that she sighs. The action causes her to drop her cleaning brush and she rocks back on her knees, sitting on her calves. She runs the back of her wrist across her forehead and you watch the cogs turning in her mind, your confession lingering in the cold room. “I don’t want this to change things.”

Abby, _your mom,_ turns to look at you with a look so incredulous that you have to stop and think about what you’ve just said. You go over the words in your mind to make sure you didn’t say anything offensive and when you learn that you haven’t, you frown in confusion. “Stop being childish, Clarke. This changes _everything_.”

Your mouth drops open in a little ‘o’ shape and you blink rapidly, watching as your mom stands up from her position, and she snaps her gloves off and throws them to the floor in frustration. It’s aimed at you and you know it.

“This changes your future. It changes the way people are going to look at you, at us, at how we raised you,” she starts quietly but you can tell there’s an anger growing inside of her that begins to shine in her eyes. “Nobody in this town is going to want to be treated by a lesbian doctor, nobody is going to want to be associated with someone like that. There are business and medical connections you cannot even fathom right now being torn up because of this silly little decision you’ve made based on some ridiculous crush you think you might have on someone. The reason you didn’t tell me earlier is because you know it’s wrong, Clarke. Deep down you know it’s not natural.”

She’s livid and there are tears rolling down your cheeks because this woman, this person in front of you, used to be your mom. She was the person you’d run to as a child when someone on the playground was mean to you, but now she’s the one being mean and you’re left stranded and alone and you just want to be loved. “I’m not a lesbian,” you shake your head, like _that_ is the important issue here, and she snaps her angry gaze towards you. “I’m bisexual. I like boys, mom. And girls. I can’t help that. This is who I am and even if I could change that I wouldn’t because I love who I am. You taught me that. I haven’t changed, I’m still Clarke..”

“It’s not who we raised you to be,” Abby fires back and she’s not shouting but you can feel every single word like it’s a knife into your chest. “We had a plan for you, Clarke. To get married, to find a nice job, to settle down. Why can’t that be enough for you? Why do you always have to go and find something else?”

You sob because it hurts. “It is enough, that’s enough,” you argue back; the idea of marrying Lexa sounds nice, of settling down with jobs you both love. It sounds perfect. “But I might want that and all of those things with a woman too. I can’t help who I fall in love with, that’s not how it works.”

“Enough,” she sighs, frustrated. Her head tilts back like you’re being ridiculous and you bring your hand up to wipe at your eyes. It does nothing to stem the flow and you taste salt on your lips. “I’m not going to stand in my own home and listen to this. You’re not old enough to know what you want yet, Clarke, and I know you’re just testing the limits but you’re really pushing your boundaries with this one. If you wanted more attention at home you should have asked. Acting out, lying, it’s not really helping your case.”

“Abby you know that isn’t what this is,” sounds from the doorway and you look up to see your dad. His eyes are shining just as brightly as yours and as much as you want to run into his arms and have him hold you, have him protect you, you know you need to do this alone too. This isn’t an act of rebellion or some desperate cry for attention; this is your _life,_ who you are. Your dad understands that, why can’t your mom? “This is Clarke. Our Clarke. The same girl who wore your heels and idolised you for _years,_ Abby. Why would she make something like this up? You wanted her to be honest with you and she’s being honest. You can’t be angry just because you don’t agree.”

“You knew?”

It’s then that you stand up because your dad has been nothing but supportive and he doesn’t deserve her anger. “I asked him --”

“I knew,” he interrupts and stands closer to you. Close enough that you can smell the motor oil on his clothing and feel the warmth of his body. “I’ve known for a long time. I’ve known that she’s been hurt and scared just at the thought of telling you. I’ve known that she’s told herself, over and over, that you’ll hate her for this and I know that isn’t true because she’s our daughter. It might take some getting used to,” he squeezes your shoulder at this, encouraging you and reminding you it might take time. It took you long enough to understand your bisexuality, you can give her time too. “But she’s our daughter, Abby. And I love her just as much as I know you do.”

“I don’t hate her,” your mom says softly but you can see the tightness in her face, the twitch of her jaw when she’s trying not to cry and you watch her as she slowly thinks of the right words. “I love you, Clarke. But I cannot accept this side of you, I’m sorry. I just can’t believe that it’s the right thing for you.”

Your voice cracks when you reply. “Okay,” and you nod because you don’t want to push this more than you need to. Your dad is right, you all need space and time. She might not be happy now but maybe, _maybe,_ with a little space you can all think a little clearly. Turning to your dad, voice brittle, you whisper. “Can I go to Lexa’s tonight?”

“Lexa?” Your mom immediately starts at that and you cringe regretfully. You know she’s going to use it as an angle now, like Wells did, and blame her. She’ll soothe herself by telling you all that you’re not actually bisexual, that Lexa has gotten into your head, that she’s bad for you and, after everything she’s said to you tonight, you don’t want to hear it. “You’re with _Lexa_?”

“Don’t make this into a thing, mom. She’s good to me.”

Abby steps forward but it isn’t threatening and you sigh in relief a little. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she says, almost distracted, and you bite your lip. “Ever since we’ve moved here you’ve been different. It was normal in Washington.”

 _It_ was normal sounds very much like _you_ were normal and you swallow thickly.

“I don’t want you seeing Lexa anymore,” she decides, like she has a choice in this, and the noise you let out sounds exactly like the tightening in your chest. She’s soft when she continues and you know what she’s doing before she even finishes; you know she’s trying to pretend to be the good guy now, especially now she has an excuse. “Lexa is a very attractive young girl. This is simply just an...infatuation, Clarke. A crush. You know when I was younger I used to look up to my older friend Elizabeth quite a lot --”

“No,” you cut her off before she can really pick up any steam and considering the tears flowing from your eyes, you’re quite proud of how strong your voice sounds. “That isn’t what this is, mom. This isn’t some hero worship or me wishing I could be like her, okay? I love her. She loves me. We’re together.”

Your mom looks at your dad in an attempt to get him to say something but he looks just as lost, just as stricken at your mom's attitude, that he doesn’t really react. “Jake. Are you listening?”

“That our daughter is in love? Yes I heard,” he says and you like that he keeps calling you his daughter, reminding Abby of the fact. “Isn’t that what we always wanted for her?”

Your mom shakes her head, adamant. “Not like this, no.”

A shudder runs through you and your dad kisses your temple quickly, almost like an apology. “Text Lexa,” he murmurs and you want to sob even more at his encouragement. “If it’s okay with her mom I’ll drive you over tonight, okay?”

“Like Hell…”

“She’s going,” your dad cuts in. His voice is strong but he doesn’t sound angry or frustrated; he sounds like he’s had enough and it just makes the guilt grow stronger. You love him so much. “We need space tonight, Abby, all of us and I think this is the best way to do it. She’ll be safe there and you can take some time to think. We call can and then we can pick this up in the morning.”

You run out of the room to text Lexa in private just as you hear your mom explode at your dad. It’s not his fault, you think as your fingers shake over the keypad, it’s not his fault -- it’s yours.

God, you’ve ruined everything.

\---

Lexa agrees immediately and you pack an overnight bag. Your dad is waiting for you downstairs and the door to your parents room was slammed shut fifteen minutes earlier, leading you to believe that's where your mom is. For a few moments you stare at the door but your dad clears his throat patiently and you follow his command, walking towards him shakily and you let him take you into his arms into the strongest embrace you know.

“She loves you,” he reassures you, his scratchy stubble brushing against your forehead before he leans back to look you in the eyes. “I promise you with all of my heart that she loves you, kid. It took you a little time to get used to this, remember? Give her a little time too.”

You nod but it doesn’t make you feel better. “The things she said…”

“Were unacceptable,” he nods. “I’ll speak to her about it as soon as things settle down and I promise you that nobody who loves you really thinks that way. She’s scared _for_ you and I don’t think she knows how to word it. But you’re allowed to be hurt and mad right now, what she said wasn’t right and it’s not fair to put that on you.”

“I love you so much,” you cry, burying your face into his chest and staining the front of his t-shirt.

“There’s nothing large enough in this universe, Clarke Griffin, to compare how infinite my love is for you,” he replies and holds you tighter.

\---

When you fall into bed that night with Lexa, you don’t speak.

She takes one look at you in the doorway and she doesn’t even ask you to speak; she just kisses your cheek and ushers you inside with a pretty smile and a wave to your dad. You’re aware he’s standing to the side with Indra and you think Anya might be there too, Aden on her hip, but you can’t think about anything else except for the sensation of Lexa’s fingers tangling with yours. The feeling is the only thing silencing the echo of your mom's words and you hold her tighter.

“I love you,” she tells you as she’s removing your make up. You’re propped up on her vanity and she runs a warm cloth over your face, easing away the sticky tears and day old mascara. She’s careful and precise and you watch as her eyes move over your face softly, taking everything in.

“I love you,” she whispers, lifting your arms and changing you into an old t-shirt she wears to bed that you think might be Lincoln’s. It’s too big to be hers and it’s a green and black hockey one that says Woods on the back. It’s comfortable and warm and you don’t stop her as she completely undresses you, replacing your underwear with soft shorts and ensuring her touch is nothing but comforting.

“I love you,” she kisses you. It’s nice because she doesn’t wait for you to kiss back but she doesn’t pull away when you tangle your fingers into her hair and tug her down, bringing her forehead against yours and just breathing. You know she’s watching you, you always know when she’s watching you, but you just need to be for a second.

\---

“I love you,” you confess when she’s fallen asleep and you’ve found your voice again. “I love you.”

 

**52.**

Your birthday comes and goes and it’s the worst one you think you’ve ever had. Until Sunday.

Sunday you know you have Lexa and you use that to get through your week but you haven’t spoken to your mom since Monday morning; the same morning that she told you she was done with you until you got your act together, the same morning that she refused to look at you or your dad.

You spend your birthday with your dad and grandmother, who came from Washington, and you have a nice meal with your favourite person in the world and the woman who birthed him. It’s nice but it’s not spectacular and you try and lie when people at church ask how your birthday was, ask if you enjoyed it, ask why there wasn’t a party. You half-lie and say it’s because your mom was working and you didn’t want to have a birthday without her; the first part is true. She’s been working non-stop -- coming home when you’re already in bed and leaving before you wake.

The quiet used to be lovely, you think, but now it’s suffocating.

Finn is outside of the church when you walk out and you smile at him once, sighing in relief when he smiles back at you and waves gently. You know you hurt him when you broke up with him but he looks happy, especially when a gorgeous blonde greets him with a chaste kiss, and you try not to think about how easy it would have been to keep lying. It makes you a bad person, you know, but you’d break Finn’s heart a thousand times as long as it protected Lexa’s just once. It would have been easier to lie, yes, but you remember the look in Lexa’s eyes when you were dating Finn and you wouldn’t dream of doing that to her ever again.

“Clarke,” greets you and you put your hands in your pockets as Wells approaches you, his steps timid and wary. You steel your face, eyes blazing and jaw locked, and he senses your anger so stops a few feet away from you. Your mom is ‘working’ again and your dad had a emergency breakdown outside of town that he had to fix but you wanted to go to church that morning, you still enjoy the community spirit of it and you quite like it (Lexa. You like seeing Lexa too.)

You stare at him for a long time but he doesn’t look like he’s moving away and you sigh. “Don’t talk to me,” you shrug, ready to move away but he steps in your line with a desperate look in his eyes.

“I want to be friends again,” he says softly and you’re reminded of how kind he is -- how kind you _thought_ he was. He looks so very young, with sad eyes and a downturned mouth but you don’t care; he hurt you, he inadvertently hurt Lexa too, and you can’t forgive that. His views--as warped as they are--are real to him and he might want to be friends again but how can he when he hates the person you are?

“Not possible,” you shrug and stand strong against his lovely eyes and childish stance. “You hurt me, Wells. And I can’t forgive you for the things you’ve said about me. You can ask your God for that.”

His voice is even quieter when he looks at you. “He could still be your God,” Wells whispers and you grimace at that. _Your_ God loves you for who you are, for who you love. _His..._ his hates you.

“My God does love me, Wells,” you tell him strongly because you believe it, you really do, and when you look back at him you can see Lexa hovering patiently for you. She’s standing with Anya but when the older girl notices when her attention is she throws her hands up and walks away. It makes you both smile. “I’m a good person. I’m kind. There’s nothing wrong with me and you can spout all the sweet words you want but I’ll never forget that under it, under all those pretty things, you wish I wasn’t who I told you I was. Who I am.”

“Clarke,” he sighs and he sounds sad, defeated. You want to forgive him but you can’t; not yet, not until you can trust him again. “Please.”

“I’ll see you around, Wells.”

You go to leave, only stopping when you hear his voice once more. “Happy Birthday,” he says and you close your eyes but don’t turn back around. You don’t have many friends now that Raven has gone and you desperately want to have more, know more, but you sort of hate him too. “For yesterday. I hope it was good.”

“My mother hates me and the guy I thought was my friend turned out to be an asshole,” you say, wanting him to feel bad and wanting him to feel guilty. It makes you feel better for a second so you hang onto that. “I’ve had better.”

“I’m sorry,” is all he says and you leave him without a reply.

\---

When you meet Lexa you’re surprised when she doesn’t lead you towards the river. Instead you walk to her house in soft silence and she tells you about her piano lessons and how every song she plays reminds her of you. Honestly you think she might be putting it on a little, exaggerating, but you like that she thinks about you as much as you think about her and it makes you chest swell with pride.

On Saturday she sent a bunch of tulips to your house. There was nothing on the little card except for a _“Love - L”_ and you bask in how brave that was of her. She knows your family know that and that your mom kind of definitely hates her, but she still did it to see you smile. The picture she sent you the morning of you birthday helped too but that was for your eyes only and when your dad asked if Lexa gave you anything else he pretended to not notice your blush.

“Where are we going?”

Lexa smiles at you like you haven’t noticed that you’re walking up the driveway to her large home. There are a few cars parked around but you pay them no notice, too focused on the girl in front of you and how she thinks she’s being sneaky. “It’s your birthday weekend,” she says like it’s nothing and you laugh at that because she sounds so sure and almost confused that you didn’t know that. “I thought a celebration was in order.”

“A sexy celebration or --”

You’re cut off when you walk through the front door by the loud cheering in the entryway. Lexa’s large hall is filled with various people, classmates you get along with at school that you think you mentioned to her once, and Raven, Bellamy and Octavia. Lincoln waves at you from where he’s trying to control an over excitable Aden and you think you see Anya walking into the kitchen holding a large plate of...something. It smells delicious in the house, like home cooking, and it sounds like a party is already underway.

It takes your breath for a second.

“Lexa,” you grin, a toothy smile that probably makes you look a little dumb, but she’s looking at you with wide eyes and soft lips and you’re so overwhelmed with your love for her that you don’t know what to do with it. “Oh my God, baby.”

You don’t even think about what you’ve said but you don’t care, you really don’t care, and nobody seems to blink at it. Well -- except for Lexa who seems to be contemplating the pros and cons of having a pet name given to her by you in front of her family. She doesn’t say anything though, just gives you a coy little smile that you’re definitely going to kiss off of her lips when you’re alone and nods towards your friends. “Happy Birthday,” she smiles and _God_ she’s perfect.

\---

Bellamy smirks at you as he drinks from his orange juice, his eyes flashing as his handsome smile lights up his face and you sort of want to ask where he and Raven have been travelling to make his freckles show up so much. “She loves you,” he says with that deep voice of his and you blush, scratching at your neck. “She can’t stop looking at you.”

“Stop it.”

“No,” he shakes his head and his hair flops attractively. You can see why Raven attached herself to him; they’re both startlingly pretty and they make a handsome couple. Not like you and Lexa, you think with giddy delight. But still. “It’s really lame.”

When you push him his orange juice spills all over his hand and Raven doesn’t replace it when he complains, her excuse being he probably deserved it.

\---

“I might have not liked the way it ended between us but you look happy, Griffin,” Finn says as you’re bouncing between friends. The girl he was with is somewhere, you’re sure you saw her before, and he’s leaning against the wall as he holds her bag and a drink in his hand. He really is a good guy, you think. The best kind. But he’s another lifetime kind of love and you both know it. “I’m sorry if I held you back or anything.”

You’re not sure what that means so you give him a soft smile in reassurance. “You didn’t,” you remind him quietly and he looks up at you with a trusting gaze. “I don’t regret you.”

He smiles at you but it only grows larger when his girlfriend walks back over. She’s friendly and sweet, absolutely beautiful, and you introduce yourself to her as friends.

When you walk away you feel relief and happiness and everything you thought you were never going to feel again after the evening you had with your mom.

\---

Your drink is refilled by Lincoln and you thank him softly. For a second you gaze at him, and then Lexa, and then Anya and you wonder what God was given three souls for the siblings to have such perfect features and jawlines. It’s incredible, you think to yourself, and then you bring the drink to your nose to check the alcohol content at your ridiculous thoughts.

“Are you having a good time?” Octavia asks and you startle a little. You haven’t spoken to her much since your incident in the bathroom, only passing waves and polite conversations in the grocery store, but she seems genuine and you nod at her. Afterall, her boyfriend has hosted a party in his house and it’s only fair for you to be kind back. “I didn’t realise it was your birthday, sorry. I didn’t get you anything.”

You shrugs because you honestly don’t care. Your actual birthday was a sham but this is everything it wasn’t and it’s more than enough. “It’s fine,” you reply before sipping at your drink. The fruity sweet and sour flavour makes your eyebrows raise and you glance down at it before looking over at Lincoln.

“Yeah, he’s kind of amazing at a lot of things but mixing drinks might be his peak,” Octavia chuckles and you look, with her, at the prettiest man you think you’ve ever really seen. “I love him, you know?”

“I know.”

Octavia sighs, nuding you softly so that you look at her. “I’m trying,” she whispers and you tense up a little. You don’t want to deal with any negativity today. Not when you’ve witnessed Lexa dancing in a way you’ve only ever dreamt about and how everyone is being so nice. It’s rare and you’re basking in it before it all goes to shit again. “I like Lexa and you. You’re good people. And I know we probably won’t be friends or anything but I really did mean it when I said you had nothing to worry about with me. I was an idiot who had no idea where she belonged, you know? I was trying to hard to be someone to everyone and I kind of hurt them all in the process.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper and you raise your hand to put it on her chest, a sign of peace for her and for the both of you. She’s young too, you’re all so young, and you don’t deserve these burdens the adults sometimes put on you all. “I understand. I do. I’d like to try to be friends though...Eventually.”

“Eventually,” she nods, and it’s clear she knows she has some making up to do for the things she said and how she’s acted but she’s not the worst person you’ve ever met. She’s lost and scared and trying to prove herself in the wrong ways and you can understand that. Beneath it all she’s a good person and you think back to Wells briefly, wondering why he was so good on the outside but angry in the middle.

“I’ll let you get back to that specimen of a man now,” you giggle and Octavia rolls her eyes but doesn’t hesitate in moving towards Lincoln with a flirty smile.

You understand how her mind works, sure, but you definitely know that feeling of needing to be as close as you can to a Woods.

\---

It takes you four attempts to get to the kitchen.

There might not be _hundreds_ of people like your mom often hopes your parties will hold but there’s enough people to keep distracting you from your goal. You’re dancing with Monty and his girlfriend for one too many songs before you know it and then Bellamy takes a shot of something red that makes him gag so hard that Raven has to sit down from laughing too hard. It’s barely two in the afternoon but the party is in full swing, teenagers having fun and letting loose in a town you don’t think lets loose all that often. Indra and Gustus have made a rule, Lexa informed everyone earlier, that any drinking must be inside where they can monitor it and nobody is allowed upstairs. You see the respect the family hold though; the drinking is fairly minimal, except during a few games, and people are content to just _have a party._

As many names can be thrown at the group of teenagers in front of you, they’re not all bad.

“Your girlfriend is here,” lets you know that you’ve finally found your way to the kitchen and you grin, drunk on happiness (and maybe a little rum), before you look around to the source of the voice. You know Lexa isn’t one for rowdy parties; she’s grown up with elegant _soirées_ and dances so you’re not surprised to find her hiding in the kitchen with her friends. You haven’t really had the chance to meet her friends yet and you allow yourself a cursory glance around. There’s Murphy and his girlfriend, a beautiful girl with the most gorgeous red curls and Anya. A few others are dotted around, pulled in by Lexa’s presence you’re sure, and you smile gently as Lexa looks to you at Murphy’s words.

She pushes off of the counter and strides towards you in those devastatingly attractive jeans. One day you’re going to have a serious talk with your girlfriend about her addiction to tight clothing but you like it too much to start now, so you greet her with a kiss to her cheek instead.

“Hello,” she says and she smells delightful in a way that suggests she definitely has tried harder for you today and you grin. You’d have felt self conscious at the surprise had you both not been aware you definitely dress for her when you go to church and she is more than happy with the white romper you decided to go with today. “Are you having a nice time? My mom made some more food if you’re feeling hungry.”

Anya laughs around a bite of cake and you slide your eyes to her. “She’s hungry, sis, but I’ll put my next paycheck on it not being for food.”

“She’s not wrong” you shrug, delighting in the feeling of being allowed to have this.

Lexa _gave_ you this free space; this chance, this moment, to really be who you are--together--in front of people. She did this in a house that used to terrify her, force her silence, make her feel small. She pushed for this for you. And you know her mom is still skeptical of you, and that her dad probably thinks it’s going to end the same way it did with Costia, but you both know better.

You love her and she loves you and you’ll both fight to prove it.

“Don’t encourage her,” Lexa groans and you take her hand as she turns back to her friends, all of them looking at you expectantly but not entirely invested. You know it isn’t meant to be harsh; your relationship doesn’t really have an effect on their lives but, still, you want to make a good impression. “Luna, John, Emori,” she points to each of them, even if you already know Murphy, and then she tugs you closer. “This is Clarke.”

“Your girlfriend,” Murphy snarks again and takes a pull from his bottle of beer. “We know.”

Lexa looks at you when she says, “Yeah, but she’s so much more than just my girlfriend.”

\---

You hang in the kitchen a little longer, completely entranced at this version of Lexa with her friends, but your doting gaze must be a little too much because before long her friends are groaning and talking about having a game of pool in the next room. Murphy gives Lexa a weird sort of smile and Luna runs her fingers over your girlfriend's shoulder as they leave that would make you scowl if Lexa wasn’t looking at you so adoringly.

“I like them,” you decide easily once it’s just the two of you. People wander in and out to grab a few bits of food but you’re mostly alone, as you Sunday’s always seem to go. “Luna seems to like you a lot.”

She laughs softly at that which tells you that you definitely didn’t keep the jealousy from your voice. “She isn’t a threat,” Lexa shrugs and you let her lace your fingers together. You’re not really worried about Luna; she might be beautiful and talented but she’s just a friend to your girlfriend and you’re thankful for that. She deserves the best. “Her and Anya are --”

“Mm,” you smirk when she trails off and you don’t know how to fill in the blank. You think all of the Woods kids deserve to be happy though but it isn’t your business and Lexa smiles at you in relief when you don’t press her further about it. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

She nods and looks so at peace that you stay quiet for a few seconds. You use that time to lift her hand and press a kiss against each finger, keeping your eyes on hers as you do, and you find your heart swelling so much you’re worried you might not be able to contain it.

“Thank you so much for this,” you kiss her hand again, her palm, her wrist. She’s so delicate and so pretty and it complete devastates you each time you look at her. “Thank you for giving me this.”

She shrugs like it means nothing and you frown.

“No, seriously. Lexa you’ve given me a space, with my friends, where I can be myself after hiding for a year. I’ve wanted to be with you like this, in front of everyone, for so long but I’ve always been too scared of my mom, or your mom, or idiots finding out. But now they know and it’s not changed how I feel about you, it’s only made it larger and more real.”

Her blush makes your stomach warm and she glances down at the counter. “I just want you to know that there are people who love and accept you,” she admits and you shuffle closer because she’s gone a little quiet with her confession. “Okay, love might be a too strong a word for people like Anya but she cares. We all care. And yes there are some bigoted assholes out there but you’re so much more than what they are. I wanted to see you could be proud of that, no matter what some others might try and make you believe.”

You’re not an idiot. You know everyday might not be like this but you kiss her like it will anyway, your lips sliding together perfectly and only a little rushed.

“Maybe one day I can make you feel this important too,” you say, kissing her again.

“You do,” she promises between sharp nips and soothing kisses. “You do.”

\---

Indra walks over to where you’re dancing with Raven and Luna and you feel a sudden urge to stop. Lexa is leaning against the wall with Octavia and Lincoln, her dark eyes on the sway of your hips, and she watches you closely as you slow your dancing down to look at the woman who made it almost impossible for you to love the girl you love.

You sort of want to hate her--you kind of do a little--but she’s Lexa’s mom and Lexa loves her. She respects her. She trusts her. And you’ll do the same as far as your heart will let you. “Clarke, will you follow me please?”

Indra gives you a little nod of the head and you follow her with shaking knees and sweaty palms. She’s intimidating but you’re braver. You straighten your back, tighten your jaw, and by the time you’re both in the kitchen you’ve practically given yourself your own superhero theme tune.

“Firstly I want to wish you the happiest of birthday’s. I know this year hasn’t been the easiest for you, Lord knows Lexa informs me of it as often as she can, and I believe you deserve the happiness I’ve seen from you today,” she speaks like you expect her to; diplomatic, regal, harsh. You can see why she’s a leader. You’re not given a chance to reply as she continues, her hands in front of her, and she tilts her head so you meet her eye. “Secondly, I’d like to apologise. I understand your frustration with me and my family but I’d like to open our door to you, as Lexa’s partner.”

“Girlfriend,” you feel the need to correct but she doesn’t say anything and you decide that’s an argument that can be left alone. She’s acknowledging you, which is more than you thought she ever would, and it’s something. “Thank you though. For this party, for letting me in.. But I’m not frustrated or angry _at_ you, Mrs Woods, I’m frustrated _for_ Lexa. She’s hidden who she is for so long and for what? Your campaign? That isn’t fair.”

“It isn’t and I didn’t fully understand that Lexa had taken it that way,” she explains softly, not wanting to disturb the party but when you look towards the doorway you can see Lexa and Anya pretending to be talking but definitely listening in. She’s ridiculous. “My daughter and I have spoken at length since that morning you...slept over. We spoke about boundaries, expectations, and she told me how she thought I was ashamed of her or that I thought my campaign would be hurt. That was never the case but I did take a long hard look at the things I may have said in the heat of the moment and, true, I could have handled it better. However we have dealt with that, as a family, and I wanted to extend my apologies for ever making you and my daughter feel like lesser beings for being together.”

You can tell this is hard for her to say by her body language but she’s a mother who is clearly trying her hardest to make amends and it’s more than what yours is doing right now. Maybe this is what your dad meant when he said it might take time.

“I’m sorry we went behind your back for so long,” you say, even if you’re not really, because it can’t have been fun to feel like your daughter is scared of you. “Lexa really wants to be good for you, Mrs Woods. I just want you to know that.”

She nods at you silently before she inhales deeply and turns her head to the side. “I suppose even as adults we still have a lot of things to learn,” she says and you go quiet because you’re not sure if you’re expected to reply to that. “It’s lucky we have children like you who are patient enough with us while we work through it.”

She might never trust you fully, and you might not always think her way is right, but it’s a start. And if you see the way Anya rolls her eyes and wipes under Lexa’s eyes before you and Indra turn to leave the room, you don’t say anything at all.

\---

Even though it’s early--still barely six in the evening--the party begins to dwindle a little. People leave to go home, or to other arrangements, and you’re pretty sure Murphy and Bellamy have snuck off with Jasper and Monty to do something you’re not willing to be an accomplice to. You’re in a room with Lexa and Anya, Raven and Luna, and you’re happy.

And you’re definitely sitting on Lexa’s knee when your dad walks in. “Hey kid, you comfortable there?”

“Mr Griffin,” squeaks out of your girlfriend and you’re quickly deposited off of the comfortable lap you were sitting on as your girlfriend stands up and quickly runs her hand over her mouth. “Hello.”

“Hi Lexa,” your dad smiles, amused, and he glances around the room. “And others.”

Anya is looking at your dad like he’s the most precious thing she’s ever seen--actually, so are Luna and Raven (gross)--and you send them a deep glare before grabbing your girlfriends hand and manhandling her back into the chair so that you can sit down again. All of Lexa’s anxiety seems to fade but she doesn’t put her hands as low on your hips as they were before and you pout to yourself a little.

“Sorry to steal the birthday girl away but we have to go,” Jake says and the collective groan around the room makes you feel so very special until you realise what he’s said. “Come on, superstar.”

“Wait, no. Dad I want to stay here.”

He looks at you like he knew you were going to say that and his eyes tell you that this isn’t up for discussion, but still. “I know but your mom wants you home and I think it’d be nice if you spend the rest of your birthday weekend with us. As a family.”

“She doesn’t deserve it, and we both know it, but your dad is right,” Lexa murmurs against your neck, kissing under your ear in a calming way that begs of you to not fly off of the handle. “She’s still your mom and it is your birthday.”

“But I want to spend it with you,” you pout and it’s pathetic really but you’ve been at your happiest today, at your most free, and you don’t want to give that up. “Please?”

Even with your dad in the room she kisses you, unafraid and determined to make you feel better. “You spent the best part of it with me,” she promises and you don’t really notice as the others begin to leave the room in an effort to give you some much needed privacy with your best friends.

“She hates me,” you whisper and you don’t know who it is to but there is a hand in yours and one on your shoulder and both are as loving and as comforting as the other. It’s almost too much. “I don’t want to spend my birthday with someone who hates me. Lexa’s right, why should I do that just because she demands it? She doesn’t deserve it.”

“She doesn’t,” your dad agrees and you watch as he kneels in front of you, one hand on your knee and one covering the intertwined hand you have with Lexa. He’s holding you both and he’s so amazing. “Just because she’s your mom doesn’t mean she gets a free pass to say the things she’s said to you, Clarke. I understand that. She was out of line and we’ve spoken about it. But you two haven’t had a conversation yet, not a calm one, and I think you at least need to try. If not for her, or me, but for you.”

He’s right, you think. If you don’t open yourself up to the chance that she might be forgiving, or might have come around, then how will you ever know?

“Okay but if she’s a bitch then I’m coming back here.”

Your dad sighs once. “That’s your one,” he warns about your swearing, you know he hates it, and then he stands up with a groan that belies his age. “But okay. If it’s too much, and it’s okay with Lexa’s parents, you can come back. But on the condition you finish any work you need to do before you go back to school next week.”

Like you could avoid it with Lexa as your girlfriend.

“Okay,” you promise and he kisses your head in thanks. “Let me say goodbye and I’ll come right out.”

He agrees to that and you watch him go, just as the others peek around the corner to make sure the coast is clear, and you’re too busy pressing your lips to Lexa’s neck as a goodbye that you only barely hear Anya. “Hot _and_ sensitive. He needs to marry me, like, yesterday.”

\---

Dinner isn’t anything exciting. Your mom wishes you a happy birthday and you smile at her, just once, because it’s easier than telling her she missed your actual birthday by hiding like a coward. It’s surprising how quickly your mood can go from so high, to so low, so quickly.

“So those were your friends today?” Your dad tries and he spears a carrot onto his fork before popping it into his mouth and looking at you, giving you the courage to talk about your day. Because it is your day. You’re allowed to be happy and he’s trying to tell you that with his bright eyes.

You briefly look at your mom, trying to judge her face, but she’s impassive. “Oh, well you know Raven from the shop,” you start and he nods at you because he really does like Raven. “But yeah. Lexa threw me a birthday party so she invited our friends, and some of hers. The girl you might have not recognised was Luna.”

“They seemed nice.”

“Yeah, because they totally have crushes on you,” you snort and it feels _good._ This little private joke that you share. And your dad preens and sticks his chest out, like he’s someone special (he is). “It’s gross.”

Jake points to his wife with his fork, trying hard to get her to join in, and winks. He makes you so unbelievably happy and you hope, you truly hope, you’ll be someone like him to your children. “Ask your mom and she’ll tell you they have good taste, right honey?”

“Mom married you though,” you chuckle, _trying._ “She’s biased.”

Abby blinks once, twice. She puts her knife and fork down and then dabs at her mouth with her napkin. There’s a deep shine to her eyes, one that tells the story of loss and confusion, and you tense as she pushes her plate away. She looks so tired, so exhausted, and you want to feel bad but she’s doing this to herself.

“I’m sorry. I can’t sit here like this,” she says and you swallow thickly, unsure what to do. Your dad sighs from next to you, despondent, and you feel guilty again. “I can’t pretend I’m okay with knowing that Clarke spent her birthday with her....with that girl rather than here, with us. Her family.”

She says family like your dad did earlier but it’s nowhere near as nice.

“I spent my birthday with dad and grandma,” you argue and you’re not going to apologise for it because you did. Your mother wasn’t there; your not sure if she even came home from her shift at the hospital. “I didn’t spend it with you because you weren’t here.”

“Clarke --” your dad tries but it’s in vain.

“I had to work, Clarke.”

“Then you can’t be angry that you weren’t here,” you fire back and you’re angry now, so angry. You have the world's most perfect father, and an amazing girlfriend, and friends you didn’t even realise you had in your worst moments. You have a lot and yes it’s hard, but she makes it worse. And you resent her more and more for it each day. “You’re mad at me for a situation that you created, mom.”

“You did this,” Abby finally cracks and her yell causes the room to go silent. “You chose this. Do not put this on me, Clarke. I am doing the best with a situation I never asked for.”

The tears come easily this time and you shake your head, a sob leaving your lips. You’re surprised that your words even fit together as you shake and it’s your dad's hand on your own that stops you from shaking. “My sexuality isn’t a ‘situation’, mom, it’s my life. You're my mother, you’re supposed to love me no matter what. I haven’t killed someone, I’ve fallen in love. How can that be wrong?”

“Because it isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Says who?”

“Says me! I do, I say it,” she cries back and you think it might be the first time you’ve ever seen your mom cry. You knew it’d be hard for her but this is something else. “God says it. Media says it. The world is going to hate who you are Clarke and I don’t want that for you, I want you to be successful and happy. You’re a good person but they’re never going to see past your sin.”

“I’d have the world hate me as long as my mother was proud of me,” you say with a shrug but your mom shakes as she cries, her hand coming up to cup at her mouth as she cries.

“I can’t,” she says through a shaking breath and you watch as she stands up, unable to do anything. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

She’s barely out of the room before you’re collapsing into your dad's arms.

\---

You don’t go to Lexa’s that night. You’re too exhausted mentally, physically, emotionally and you’re also not leaving your house because of your mom. You live here. You’ve made memories here.

Together you lie with your dad in your bed, him sat up against the wall and you cuddled into his side like a small child again. Your mom packed a bag and announced she was staying at the hospital; your dad didn’t argue, he just let her go, and it’s the first time they’ve ever let you see a crack in their united front.

“I’m sorry,” you tremble. “Please don’t hate mom because of me.”

Jake, soft as ever, presses a kiss against your hairline. “I will never hate your mother,” he murmurs against your hair and he pulls you closer to him as you both shift of your little bed. “But I made you a promise when you were a baby that I would never, ever, let anyone hurt you. And I’ve never broken a promise to you yet. I love your mother, Clarke. She’s the love of my life. But you’re my baby, okay? And I’m always going to protect you. Believe that.”

While your relationship is at it’s finest you let yourself cry for love that is being lost because of you.

**SEPTEMBER.**

**53.**

“I don’t want to go back to school,” Lexa says and it actually shocks you because she definitely wants to go back to school. Over the summer she’s grown restless; she’s studied on her own since her summer assignments were finished in the first two weeks, she’s taken up the violin and upped her piano lessons. She’s bored when you’re not with her and you know it. “Senior year is going to kill us.”

You laugh a little at her because she’s always a little dramatic but today she seems to have decided to add a little flair to it. You look down to where she’s laying her head on your stomach, her fingers busy spinning some flowers between her fingers for a little crown, and you run your finger over the little freckle on her lip.

“It’s not going to kill us,” you whisper. Sometimes you like being quiet when you’re here because this is your spot. People miss it a lot when they’re walking up here; it veers off the track a little and there’s always branches and rocks covering the ground but still. It’s sacrosanct here. It’s your version of church sometimes. “You’re so smart you probably won’t feel any pressure at all.”

She shrugs and she’s still pouty, which is cute, and turns those eyes to you. “Yeah but now I know what it’s like to have you outside of our Sunday’s. I know what you taste like on a Wednesday and how you laugh on a Saturday. You’re asking an addict to go cold turkey, Clarke, and I don’t think it’s fair.”

“Lexa,” you laugh heartily because she’s being downright bratty and you’ve never seen this. You’ve been around this girl for a year, you’ve seen her laugh and cry and aroused. You know her favourite show and how she takes her coffee and which Spice Girl was her favourite (Posh, always). But you’ve never seen her like this and you revel in it. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I know,” she murmurs but she sits up quickly, raising her hands to put the crown on your head and you smile at the satisfied look on her face. It takes a second but she looks at you seriously and you take her hand, patiently waiting for her like she has done for you again and again. “I really like you, Clarke.”

“Just like?”

She rolls her eyes so spectacularly that you sort of expect news reports that night claiming the Earth stopped spinning for a moment. “Love, I love you,” she corrects but then frowns a little and shakes her head. “But I like you too. You’re my best friend and I’m going to miss you, I think. A lot.”

(You’ll look back later, older and wiser, and sigh at how lucky you were to meet your soulmate so young.)

“I’ll miss you too, needy.” She grins at that but there’s still a sadness there. And you badly want to fix it. “What’s really going on in your mind?”

Lexa licks at her lips once and then shrugs, like she’s being an idiot, and she meets your eyes after a few long moments. “I don’t want this summer to end,” she says and you tilt your head at her to continue. Her fingers have moved from your hand and you can feel her trace nonsensical patterns on your forearm, nails scratching randomly, and you let her do it if it means she’ll stay relaxed. “I know it hasn’t been easy. It’s been Hell sometimes, actually. But it’s been with you, and I knew you were going to change my life when I met you but I never thought I’d fall this hard. Love was always scary for me. Costia...It broke me, I thought I’d never get over it.”

“But you did,” you encourage.

“I did,” she presses a kiss to your wrist softly and your breath catches in your throat when she looks up at you. “You’ve taught me so many things. How to be better, softer. I don’t want to go back to school and miss anything else you might be able to show me.”

She’s such a sappy, gay, princess but you love her so much.

“Come here,” you whisper and she responds immediately as you sit up properly to let her straddle your lap. Your hands immediately grip her slight waist and she wraps her arms around your neck, her temple against yours as she burrows into your warmth to find comfort. “You’re ridiculous but I love you so much, Lex. You’ve given me a lot too, you know? You’ve shown me how to be strong and brave and fight for me rather than everyone else.”

“Well you’re very important to me,” she says seriously, pulling back and capturing your eyes with her own. “I needed you to be important to yourself too.”

You kiss her because, as silly as it is, you’re going to miss her too when you go back to school. To go from her comforting arms to a school that is full of idiots--because you’re not stupid. Those people at your party were there because they liked you, sure, but they weren't the majority of the people in this town and they definitely didn't have the same mindset as your teachers or others you might have to face--and then home to your mother? It doesn’t sound appealing.

She still isn’t speaking to you, your mother, and nights earlier you overheard your parents talking about counselling. Your mother agreed until your dad told her, in no uncertain terms, that it wasn’t counselling for you -- it was for his family that he wasn’t willing to lose over something silly. Hearing that made you cry and when Lexa answered her phone she said nothing, just let you sob through your guilt that you’d broken your family.

You know you haven’t, not really, and you know it’s your mom's prejudices that are building this barrier but on the darkest nights it’s not hard to blame yourself.

Never Lexa though. You’ll never regret falling in love with Lexa.

“Where did you just go?” Lexa asks softly, her hands brushing your hair from your face and you chase her fingers with your lips playfully.

“I was thinking about my mom,” you confess and your body shakes with her laughter at your words. Clearly she wasn’t expecting that and she runs her nose against yours in the softest of ways that never fails to make your lips tremble and your fingers twitch. “What?”

“You were thinking about your mom when my tongue was in your mouth? Really, Clarke?”

At that you rear back, your eyebrows pinching together, and even though she’s laughing that wasn’t what you were expecting her to say. “Don’t be gross,” you scold and she keeps chuckling, attractive little laughs that leave her lips in breathy sighs, and you lift her shirt just enough to trace your fingers along her hip bones. “I was just thinking that despite everything, you’re worth it. But now I’m sort of thinking otherwise.”

“No you’re not,” she smirks and you kind of hate that you still find it as attractive as you always have. It’s kind of hard to disagree with her when those pouty lips are so attractive and so talented. “How are you and your mom? Have you spoken to her since your birthday?”

You shake your head without words and she looks sad for you.

“I’m sorry,” she says genuinely and it almost breaks your heart. Lexa wants the best for you and she always has, you’ve known that from the beginning, and you know it kills her that she’s powerless in this situation. “Keep giving it time, okay? Look at my mom. We’re at such a different place to where we were a year ago and that’s because of you pushing me. You’ve made me better and it’s helped my mom understand because I’m not sorry I’m gay. It made us finally talk.”

“Mm,” you hum, brushing your fingers against her skin. She’s so determined that you have the perfect life and she’s so willing to do what she can for you that it makes your heart flutter. You don’t know much about science but you’re pretty sure you can feel the exact moment you fall for her a little more; you go dizzy, your heart beats faster, your hands get clammy. You’re the luckiest girl in the world and she still looks at you like she can’t believe you’re real. “I hope so. I love her, Lexa, and I hate myself for it because she thinks I’m the worst thing to walk this Earth right now.”

She holds you a little tighter and the kiss against your temple feels a little wet, enough to know she’s getting upset. “You’re a good person, Clarke. The best. Loving your mom isn’t wrong, even after all she’s done, and stop feeling guilty. Things will work out. They always go. We just have to be patient.”

“As long as you wait with me.”

“I’ll always be with you,” she promises, and it’s as solid as any promise you’ve ever been given before.

\---

When Lexa arrived there was a little bag at her side but you paid it no attention, to focused on kissing her next to your river as the sun reflected off of the water and brightened the flowers around you. Kissing her here, in your place, is always your favourite and you like the sound of the little rocks shifting under your feet and the trees rustling above your head. It calms you, connects you to her and when you can’t sleep it’s easier to think of the way the sun filters through the trees to illuminate her smile than it is to count sheep or do some silly breathing exercise. It relaxes you instantly.

“I’ve brought you something. Technically it’s for your birthday but it took a little while and I had to bargain with your dad a little,” she says and rustles around in the bag. Her striped shirt rides up a little and the shorts she has on gape enough at the back that there’s enough skin on display to make you dizzy. Maybe she’s right, maybe this year is the year that kills you because your girlfriend is getting sexier as the days go on. “Here.”

She hands you a leather bound book and you narrow your eyes at it. **“Our First Year”** is printed on the front and it’s delicate, just like her. Her hands are impatient for you to open it but she waits, like she always does, and watches for your reaction. When you open it you smile because you sort of guessed it was a picture album, but these are your pictures. You took these.

In front of you are your memories. The smile she gave you on the grass and her back as she stood in front of you. Your own smile as she kisses your cheek and ensuing blush at the words she whispered. Gentle smiles that grew loving over time, eyes that went from heartache to fulfilled, touches that began friendly and swooped into chaos. It’s all there.

Your year.

Beneath every picture is a caption. Your memories are different and it’s enticing how she writes her version of events down. How when you were so enamoured by the colour of her eyes in that one picture you took, she writes that she was falling deeper and deeper in love with the weight of you on her hips. In the moments you took as friends, and you were learning yourself, she writes how in awe she was of your courage and bravery.

The last is one from your birthday. You’re in the kitchen and the shadows of her friends are behind you. Murphy took the picture, with a grumble, but you’re holding one another like you always wanted to hold her in public.

_“From the first Sunday to the ones that don’t exist yet, I love you more every time.”_

It’s what she signs off with and you know, you know, you know Sunday’s are hers. They’ve always been hers. They’re sacred and special and what drives you to eat breakfast with your mom and hold your head up in the middle of town. You know you’re not completely out, and there’s a long way to go, but there are so many more Sunday’s to come and that makes you more hopeful than anything else in this world.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask and she grins, joyous that you liked her gift, and she nods eagerly.

“Only if you swear to never stop.”

Your promise is lost to her lips and her tongue and her gasps. But you know she understood -- she understands you better than you’ve ever understood yourself.

\---

There are, depending if there is a leap year or not, fifty-three Sundays in a single year.  Which if you were to live to an average age of eighty-five then you'd have lived through four thousand, five hundred and five single Sundays. And yet, you think as your eyes take in the glistening water and you listen to the soft hush of the trees, it took you less than fifty-three to fall in love with the right girl at the wrong time.

But oh, is she ever worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will give a note that they have so many years ahead of them so it may feel like not everything is answered for Clarke, but this is where we're leaving her at the end of this year. She's in a good place, a loving place (for the most part), and there are many more days and many more Sunday's in her life. The guilt she feels, it'll go. The worry, it'll fade. If you've noticed the brackets, that's her future and she's just as happy there as she is here. I promise. 
> 
> If you have any questions or headcanons, come yell at me at brokendevilwrites.tumblr.com


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